Secret Burdens
by orangeflavor
Summary: He thought he was the only one. He had no idea.
1. Secret Burdens

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make no money.

Author's Note: This is my first delve into a fandom other than Harry Potter, but I adore these characters so I had a go at it. Hopefully it is true to character. This is a movieverse, set after X3.

Secret Burdens

"_He thought he was the only one. He had no idea."_

Logan found it ironic that the med-lab of all places was where he went at times like this.

It was midday, Friday, and the last of the classes at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters were just releasing. Logan's ears picked up the treading footsteps a floor above him as he sat on the observation table, tubes and needles and monitors lining the white walls around him. One arm leaned over his knee supporting his slouched frame as his other hand held the nub of what was left of a cigar. He pulled it to his lips, drew in a large breath and exhaled as he lowered the cigar. The heavy scent filled the air slowly, leisurely.

He found himself here sometimes, just sitting atop the table or walking around the lab, pacing the floors that she used to spend hours of her day upon.

Jean.

Logan loves this time of day, when he can sit here and imagine her usual day. Her last class just let out and she grabs her folders and bags, pulling her glasses over the bridge of her nose, rushing down floors to her lab, where she finds sanity. He had hoped it'd provide a little for him. But she hasn't been down there for months.

Logan is exhaling another puff into the air when he hears the sliding glass of the doors opening. He turns his eyes to see Ororo standing in the threshold, her hands smoothing over the length of her pinstripe pencil skirt. The matching jacket he remembers her wearing earlier that day was gone, and underneath he could see the deep aqua of her silk button-down. The cuffs of her sleeves were undone, as well as the two buttons below her collar.

She looked up to find Logan sitting there watching her, silently blowing smoke from his lips, and she stilled her hands. Ororo straightened up, and let out a puff that blew a white strand of hair from her face. Several of the waves had already escaped the loose bun she wore at the nape of her neck. "Good afternoon, Logan."

He nodded from his position. "Storm."

Ororo scrunched up her nose distastefully at the scent that tinged the air, then at the sight of his smoking cigar.

Logan smirked. "Something wrong, darlin'?"

She planted her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. "You know I find those utterly distasteful, Logan, especially in here." It didn't require mentioning exactly _why_ here was important.

"Yeah." Another puff. "I know."

She stood there a moment, staring at him. It was pointless to ask why he was here. She figured Jean was most present to him here than anywhere else. And even if she was wrong, if she asked the real reason he wouldn't tell it to her anyway. So she never questioned him about his silent wonderings through the school halls, or how he plagues the grounds at night. Some things she didn't want to know about him, nor needed to know. If Logan kept to himself then that's how she'd keep it. So she stayed silent and finally looked over to what she came down there for.

Ororo put one pointed heel before the other and walked over to the computer monitor to Logan's left. She settled into the rolling chair and pulled up the directory under Hank's icon.

Logan stilled the path of his cigar from his mouth. "What're you doing here, anyway?"

She looked over her shoulder to look at Logan. "Hank needs some medical reports for a lecture in Chicago tomorrow." She turned back to return to the computer.

"Reports from here?" Logan asked, cocking his brow. He plopped down to the ground from the table and walked up behind her chair. He reached over to the ashtray on the edge of the desk and snubbed his cigar out. After habitual visits down to the lab he figured it was just easiest to bring a tray in for his visits. That at least calmed Storm down enough for her to let him continue smoking them.

"What kind of reports is he lookin' for?" Logan squinted down at the screen, watching her pull up windows faster than he could finish reading the filenames.

She paused in her clicking to look back up at him, hesitating briefly. She brushed another errant curl behind her ear. "Blood tests mostly. Some chemical compositions and cerebral readings."

"Of what?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets, still leaning over her to read the screen before him.

"Mutants."

He looked to her face momentarily, then leaned back on his heels, still watching her.

She returned the stare for a moment before returning to searching the open files.

As her hands flew across the keyboard he took the moment to look at her. He'd barely seen her in these last few months. She was always either teaching classes or doing administration work in Xavier's old office. In his will, Xavier left the school in the hands of Storm, Scott and Jean. Seeing as she was the last surviving member of the trio, she became Headmistress and had been running the school ever since. They were short staffed as it was, so she took on her old classes. Logan can't remember the last time he saw her in the kitchen or dining room, doesn't know the last time he's seen her eat, if she eats at all now. He doubts she sleeps much either.

He cocked his head, observing how her thick hair threatened to escape the hold of the tie she hastily put it in. He realized he hadn't seen her with her hair down since the funeral. She was always in a rush to work, always had some releases to sign, contracts to cover, loans to fill out or approve, classes to teach. She never had time to do anything with her hair but pull it into a low bun away from her face. She never skimped on her wardrobe though. Logan always found her in three piece suits nowadays. Always the button-down top, usually rich colors and of some flowy fabric he never had a mind to name. She wore either slacks or pencil skirts, and he hasn't seen a pair of flats on her feet in so long he began to wonder if she owned anything _but_ heels.

It had been a frustrating day today apparently, her jacket missing and cuffs undone. Logan figured she had to dress down some days though.

He flicked his gaze to the screen and caught sight of a name before it flashed away with a tap of the keys under Ororo's fingers. He blinked, then dropped his hand over the mouse, exiting out of the window.

"No, Storm."

She froze in her typing, then turned in the wheeling chair to face him. "Excuse me?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. She knew exactly what he was talking about. "You can't use that file." His voice was low, steady.

She returned the glare equally, crossing her arms over her chest and settling back in the chair. "Hank needs the files. What do you expect me to do?"

"Tell him he can't use that one. Tell him _I_ said he can't use that one." His hand still hadn't left the mouse as he leaned on the desk.

"They are simply blood samples, Logan. This is just for observational and educational purposes."

"Bullshit," he ground out.

She narrowed her eyes, and he saw the subtle flaring of her nostrils. "Do not speak to me like that, Logan."

He leaned in closer toward her, and watched as she didn't inch back. "I say what I want, darlin', and I'm sayin' 'No.'"

"I am sorry to tell you Logan but these are not your files and thus you have no say in how they are used."

"I won't let you use her." It was almost a growl this time.

Storm cocked her head, almost disbelieving he would take that tone with her. It had been a while since they had touched on the subject of Jean. Neither of them really found the other to be that shoulder when in need. Grief wasn't something they shared, and so, Jean had not been a topic of their conversation since the funeral.

Ororo slowly stood from her seat in front of the computer and Logan had to straighten up to give her the room. "It is not her we are using, but samples of her blood to show a class of researchers some possible gene mutations and their effects. It is purely scientific, and does not demean her in any way."

"She's not a fucking guinea pig, Storm. Give her at least that much respect."

Logan saw the rise of Ororo's chest as she huffed in frustration. "Respect? Who are you to speak of respect? You seemed to be lacking it in spades when you tried to shove a wedge between her and Scott. Where was your respect then, Logan?"

Logan raised a finger at her in defense. "That was a long time again, Storm. It has nothing to do with what's going on now."

"Does it not?" She stepped closer toward him, daring him to raise his voice again. "You seem to never let things go, Jean included."

Logan grit his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides. "Don't go there, Storm. You ain't got that right."

"Oh," she spat, "but you have all the rights to tell me what I can do? Is that it? You can't have it both ways Logan. Either give it up or get out of the way."

"Give what up? Jean?" He couldn't help the snarl that escaped his lips, the step he took closer toward her. "You know I can't do that. Don't ask me to."

"I am not asking you Logan, I am telling you." She pulled a finger up to jab him in the chest. "You need to get on with your life, and stop wasting it on a dead woman."

There was a split moment, when Logan felt something rise suddenly in his chest, and before he knew what he was doing his hands had flown to her arms and he had her slammed against the wall.

She cried out as her head banged against the plaster behind her, white waves breaking free from her bun, and she blinked her eyes open to find Logan snarling inches from her face. His hands gripped her arms, and he could feel the subtle tug of the adamantium begging for release from under his skin.

"Don't," his chest heaved with labored breathes, "Don't ever speak about her like that."

Ororo could feel the hot puffs of air coming from his mouth as she stared at him, mouth agape, until her eyes narrowed so fast Logan almost missed it. She ground her teeth together and her eyes suddenly gleamed white beneath his glare. "You think you can tell me what to say about her? You think you are the only one who can claim to care about her?"

"I loved her!" He said it without even realizing the words were on his tongue.

"So that makes you privileged? You think you are the only one to have loved Jean?" She couldn't help the quake in her rising voice. "So you loved her." She barked a laugh. "Is that your excuse? Your mantra now?"

There was a growl rising in Logan's chest, and his fingers gripped tighter, hoping to scare her into silence. What he would give in that moment to have her shut up. "It's not a mantra. It's my fucking life. It's me, inside and out and all the fucking way across the universe." His heart was beating so fast, his breathing so hard. God, the woman was so frustrating. "Making it a mantra would dull the truth in it. As if it had to be proven."

"And I should have to prove it?" She screeched incredulously. "You are not the only one in pain here, Logan. If you were not so self-absorbed you would have noticed that."

He couldn't be sure, but Logan thought he saw the beginnings of wetness dotting the edges of her eyes. Oh please, no. Not that. Not tears.

A moment later and he smelled salt on her skin. His fingers loosened slightly and she yanked one arm free.

"I lost Jean, too, Logan. And I had no choice in it either." She stilled, letting that statement sink in before her eyes slowly began to dull.

But Logan heard it loud and clear, and he threw her other arm from his grip. "Shut the fuck up! You have no fucking clue what happened," he roared.

"Oh but I do." She was eerily quiet, and it made Logan want to rip the screams from her. "I lost Jean. I lost the Proffessor." She blinked, swallowed heavily. "I lost Scott."

There was something different in her voice then, something heavy and hidden he'd never heard from her before, and it jarred him. He froze, and she turned her damp eyes away, realizing he had caught the change in her voice, unwilling to shed tears over this. She sniffed loudly, swallowed one more time and then turned back to face him, brows furrowed over still swirling white eyes. "We cannot have everything we wish for Logan."

He stepped back. "You…"

"But you deal. And you learn to compromise. Love rarely ever turns out to be exactly where you want to find it." She rubbed one of her wrists, and stared up at him through thick lashes. "Wake up and look around you, Logan. The world was spinning before you came here, and it will continue to spin when you leave here, as we both know you will soon." She dropped her hands, her white tresses falling over her shoulders. She took a step toward him. "Do not dare think for one second that you are the only one with burdens."

Logan stood there in silence, watching her, his chest rising with labored breathes and his fists at his sides. He didn't stop her as she stalked past him toward the sliding door of the lab. She stopped just inside the threshold, then turned back one last time. "And Logan," she began. He didn't turn to face her, his back still toward the door. "Do not presume to think that I will allow you to lay hands on me again."

Logan heard the sound of the door as it closed behind her, and he dropped into the chair below him, his head landing in his hands.


	2. The Gates We Leave Open

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: I had not originally intended to make this piece a multi-chapter one but after reviews and such the idea I kind of dangled at the end of the original sort of blossomed into it's own story. And I realized that there was a facet of their lives I had wanted to explore more. Do not worry, there is definitely another chapter after this one, and I will be steering the storyline into more Logan and Ororo action. For now, this scene will have to do, it is integral to the story.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Two: The Gates We Leave Open

"_And who knows who will trespass through the gates we leave open?"_

Logan remembers something from the funeral, an instant, a moment, that never really clung to his memories before now, insignificant at first.

An image of Ororo, after the guests had left the small graveyard of tombs that housed the fallen X-men members. Three tombstones. She stood to the left, her hands held before her, and Logan remembers the stiffness in her shoulders, the stillness of her breath. He was watching for a few seconds at most, her grief never really moving him, never jarring him into action, as though they were strangers meeting at the funeral of mutual friends and nothing more. A stranger was probably the closest thing he could call her at that point anyhow.

She never stayed to speak with him longer than it took to extend a polite greeting or inquiry about his day. It wasn't edginess or fear or even apprehension he would see grace her features when they spoke. It was more of an indifference, almost apathy he sometimes felt she held for him. As though she questioned why she should waste time on any subject that more than scratched the surface between them. He never thought about it much, probably because he was thankful she wasn't the type to dig up his insides and try to decipher them, nor did he care to figure out all the gruesome little details about how she worked either.

But this one image of her standing at the edge of Scott's grave had planted itself somewhere deep, somewhere far enough from consciousness he hardly realized it was actually a memory. He watched as she raised her hand and gently placed it atop the stone, in a reverence Logan was surprised she carried, and softly, so faintly he hardly recognized the motion, grazed her fingertips across the etched-in name. Her hand settled back to her side and in a moment she was up the steps of the mansion, throwing herself into classes and papers and administration for months on end. He had turned and wandered back to his bike, thinking nothing of the movement, an image that now, months later, burns with meaning.

He wants to, but knows he can't, ask her about it. Make her answer the question that's been wringing his mind for days, the question that makes him steer clear of her during breakfast, that makes him take separate routes through the mansion so as not to encounter her. But he knows she would never enlighten him. After all, who was he to ask her? And who was she to tell him? Ever since that incident in the med-lab, the quake he heard in her voice, the tremors he felt through her arms, he had to know. Because it changed everything. It changed everything he ever thought he knew about her, about Jean, about Scott. Like she had said, he wasn't the only one, and that opened so many doors he didn't even know which direction to start. So he went to the doctor.

"Logan, I am positively thrilled to see you, you know this, but is it really necessary just at this moment?" Hank McCoy was squinting at the petri dish he held atop his lab table, a needle held directly above it with his left hand and his other on the computer to his right.

Logan could only see the blue tufts of hair escaping the neck of his lab coat while the Beast faced his back to him, too engrossed in his experiment to turn and face Wolverine as he heard him enter through the sliding med-lab doors. Logan crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Why? What's so important, furball?"

"Well, I suppose you could say I am suspending life at my fingertips."

"Well, think you can suspend it for this conversation?" Logan pulled up next to the computer screen Hank was observing and leaned against the tabletop below it, his arms still crossed over his chest.

Hank threw a glance at Logan out of the corner of his eye before returning to his petri dish. "A conversation concerning what, my friend?" He dropped one more ounce of the liquid inside the needle to the dish below.

There was a pause before Logan spoke, and Hank thought he saw him tighten his arms over his chest. "Storm."

Hank set down the needle and tapped a few keys with his free fingers before turning his wheeling chair to face Logan. He eyed him for a moment before asking, "And what about Ororo has you coming to me?"

Logan ground his teeth together a moment, glanced at the computer screen, then over to the other med-lab table.

"Logan, what is it?"

He turned his gaze back to Hank. "It's about Scooter. I gotta know something."

Hank cocked his head, looking at Logan behind his glasses, before reaching up and removing them from his nose. He set the rims down on the table and Logan heard him release a sigh. "You have questions about Ororo and Scott?"

"Yeah, you could call it that."

"What sort of questions?" Hank turned back to Logan, his hands folded across his lap.

"The kind you probably won't wanna answer," he smirked.

Hank chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Knowing you, that is most likely the case. But I must warn you, I am not at liberty to disclose any information I believe Ororo would consider an invasion of privacy."

"I can respect that, Doc."

Hank smiled warily. "Then ask."

"There's something I started thinking about, something I think I missed all these years. Or something she'd just been covering up, I don't know." Logan reached up and scratched the back of his head. "You see, I just remembered something. And I think I ignored it so long ago because it was fresh after Jeannie's death, you know?" Logan paused, watching Hank's reaction to the word 'death' instead of 'murder'.

When Hank did nothing but nod silently, Logan continued.

"And I got to thinking. That maybe all this time that I'd been chasing what could never be mine, there was so much more going on under the surface. Maybe there were things I never even got to glimpse. I mean, it was none of my business, they'd known each other for years. But it made me wonder, if all this time, there was something between Storm and Scooter that I had completely passed by."

Hank was still staring at Logan, and Logan could tell Hank was fighting to keep his mouth closed. "I have to know, Doc."

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose and turned his gaze to his hands. "No you don't, Logan."

Logan dropped his arms, took a step closer toward Hank's chair. "Ya don't understand. It changes everything."

"It changes nothing." Hank rose from his chair and picked up the needle, walking over to the other countertop where he held his tools.

"It does for me," Logan almost growled, picking up to follow Hank across the room. "It makes her different. It makes this different," Logan motioned his hands in front of him. "It makes…" he swallowed, curled his hands closed. "It makes me pathetic," he sighed with slumped shoulders.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, Logan?" Hank asked as he wiped the needle clean and placed it next to a scalpel.

"It means I'm not alone." It was almost a wish, a grasping at air really, because of all people, he realized he would not want to wish that on her.

Hank turned to him, almost glaring. "Do not think that that puts you on the same level as Ororo. That you have shared the same scars, that you know the same wounds. It means nothing of the sort."  
"I never said that, furball." Logan clenched his fists, grit his teeth. "I'm not tryin' to raise myself up here, redeem myself or some shit like that. I know I don't know her. I don't know her nearly enough to even call us friends, but you…" he dropped his voice a little. "You do. And you know. Or you know something about it that makes you keep quiet, if not for her then for your own hide."

"I don't keep my silence to escape Ororo's wrath, Logan. It is out of respect." Hank returned to the original table, collecting his glasses.

"Then just tell me what you feel." Logan paused in his stride back across the white tiles. "What you can remember. That's not an invasion of her privacy, right?"

Hank sighed, pulling the glasses over the blue fur of his cheeks. "I can't tell you much, but only that for a time, I kept my distance from Ororo."

Logan cocked his head. "Whaddaya mean, bub?"

"I mean," Hank turned his head to lock eyes with Logan, "I could not approach Ororo myself because I thought, and perhaps it never was but…," he dropped his gaze again, uncertainty shifting his eyes across the floor, and Logan took a step closer, bore his gaze deeper into Hank.

Hank closed his eyes, and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

"But what, Beast?"

"I thought…that Ororo's tender heart," Hank smiled softly, "was inclined elsewhere." He looked back up to Logan, a hesitant and reluctant smile playing across his lips, the grooves and lines of his face making him seem so much older to Logan at that moment. "In a more human direction, I suppose you could say, then I was."

Logan could not help the heaviness to his limbs, the stiffness in his back, his body's unwillingness to move at the laden words Hank was spilling before him. The realization that it was a possibility. The burning suggestion that deep under those cracked and chipped layers, there was someone else carrying the same burden.

And hadn't she said it herself? Hadn't she laid it all out before him, without even meaning to? And hadn't she just let him through the gates she never meant to leave open?

So. Where did that leave them now?

Logan was going to ask her.


	3. The Seedlings of Truth

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make no money.

Author's Note: I'm extremely appreciative of all the responses to this piece and it makes me want to keep going. I had thought I could sum up whatever it was Ororo would reveal to Logan in this chapter, but as I was writing it I realized they need more time, and this meant I'd have another chapter coming out after this. Also, on another note, I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm not trying to weave an intricate web of unrequited love. The idea is nauseating to me. I look at the feelings of these characters on many different levels, so please don't take it simply as 'he loves her but she loves him but he loves another her' or anything of the sort. Again, thank you and enjoy. There's a lot more Ororo than in Chapter Two.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Three: The Seedlings of Truth

"_It was always easy to cover up. They never thought honesty could be so hard."_

There were days when Ororo wondered if they were even worth waking for. The day after she was pulled from the wreckage of her home in Africa. Days when she wandered the streets of Cairo picking pockets. Days when she left her title "Goddess" behind with her village. But never here, never at the school. Never with the X-men.

Ororo digs the toes of her feet into the dirt and feels the roots of her plants thriving beneath.

There was not a single day she could remember regretting in this place. And that feeling of helplessness, that vulnerability, had not found her again until these last few days. The days after her encounter with Logan.

Ororo leaned down and placed her sandals on the ground beside her, then stood back up, raising her eyes to the trees above her. She watched the wind as it rustled the leaves and thread its way through the branches that enveloped her view of the sky beyond. It was still early by anyone else's standard, where the beginnings of dawn had just begun to filter through the mansion's windows.

She had already woken by then and made her way down to the yard out back. She had slipped on some old jean shorts and a t-shirt she had bought once it California on a trip with Jean, reading "I Ran with Mexicans" across the breast. She treaded in worn sandals down to the yard to welcome her favorite part of the day. She stepped through beams of delicate orange light and she felt the warm tint of pink hit her face before she touched the dirt. Ororo stopped once she reached the grass and leaned down to untie her sandals, then walked out into the trees.

She can't remember the first time she did this, but feels as though she always has. As the world slowly comes back to consciousness around her she stands and waits for the wind to greet her, feel the sprinkle of dew against her bare toes. She closes her eyes and lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding.

Logan.

That man had an uncanny habit of wriggling his way into her thoughts when she least wanted him, especially now. Here she could detach herself from the school, from her duties, from responsibilities. In this moment of waking, when the bright lip of the sun found its way over the hills to stream its light over her, she could only feel the wind and the sun and the dirt. Her only connection being that with her Mother Nature. She opened her eyes again at the thought of Logan once more. She sighed and dropped her shoulders.

She'd have to speak with him eventually. It was hardly reasonable of her to keep avoiding him. But she knew that once she did, the subject would be broached. Her unknowing confession in the med-lab.

Ororo sucked in another breath and expelled it into the air before her. She supposed she could hold it off for a few more days.

"Did you love him?"

Well never mind.

Ororo turned so fast she almost tripped over her own ankle, settling in the dirt to face Logan a few feet behind her.

He cocked one eyebrow at her choice of apparel, having not seen her in such casualness in months.

Ororo widened her eyes a moment before coming back to herself, settling her feet to stand before him. "Excuse me?"

Logan had figured, after speaking with Hank the day before, that directness was the best way to go about talking to Ororo. Before speaking with Hank he was too afraid to even say the words to himself, to think them even, as though that made it true without her affirmation.

"You heard me, Storm." Logan sighed and dropped his arms from where they were crossed over his chest. "I ain't tryin' to corner you or nothing. It's just…" he cracked a small smile in her direction, and she unconsciously loosened the tension in her back. "Well, we've been pussyfootin' around this long enough."

Storm scowled at him. "Logan, your language always leaves something to be desired."

"Like now." He motioned toward her. "You're pussyfootin' right now."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I cannot help the way I speak Logan. You of all people should be able to understand that concept," she retorted with a raised brow.

"Hey, hey, no need to be defensive, Storm. I just want to talk."

Ororo just looked at him, staring at his face, trying, Logan assumed, to find some truth in his words.

"Look, Storm. I just need to know something. And you never have to talk about it again, but just this once…" Logan looked at the ground. "Just this once, can we actually hold a conversation?"

"I have always been able to hold a conversation with you, Logan. You on the other hand, seem to have the trouble in keeping it," she quipped.

Logan held up his hands as he looked back up at her. "Okay, so you're bitter. Understandable."

She took a step toward him. "Understandable? You had me slammed against a wall, Logan. Would you like to see the bruises left from your man-handling?" She was glaring at him already.

"Alright, calm down, Storm. No need to get testy." Logan almost wanted to take a step back.

"Testy? Well, I apologize if I don't take well to violence."

Logan could see the electricity sparkling through her tresses. "I'm sorry, okay? Storm, I never meant to do that, I just…I didn't know and…" He dropped his hands.

"So ignorance is your excuse? Logan, there's a lot you still don't know. But that is never a good enough reason when asking for forgiveness."

Logan grit his teeth. "It's not an excuse. I'm just saying I didn't know. And that's why I'm asking, if you'd calm down enough to let me ask it."

Storm narrowed her eyes. "And you are the perfect example of composure, is that it?"

Logan ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus! It's just so hard to talk to you when you're standing there spouting off that shit."

Storm scoffed. "Well, excuse me for standing here, waiting for the explanation _you_ wanted to give _me_. I see now that was a mistake."

"You see what I mean?" Logan asked, stretching his hand out toward her. "God, you just make me so frustrated sometimes," he ground out.

"Wait a minute – frustrated? _You're_ the one frustrated? You have got to be –"

"Do you ever shut up? This is why we can't communicate."

"Wait, you're saying this is my fault?" she almost shrieked, placing a hand on her chest. "And how exactly did you come to that conclusion? Because somewhere along the way you got your wires seriously crossed."

"Okay, can we just – stop – just stop." Logan swiped his hands through the air. "I'm just trying to talk to you here, Storm. That's all I want."

"Well, we can't talk, Logan." Ororo's chest was heaving and she reigned in her breath. "We never just 'talk'. It's not what we do."

"And why not?" This time, his voice was softer, urgent almost, as he took a step closer.

"Because Logan…" it sounded as though she was trying to explain something she had been trying to explain for years. She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're just…too much the same. Too much the same in all the wrong ways, and too different in all the right ones."

"That doesn't mean we can't talk, Storm. That doesn't mean that…that I can't still respect you." He was slowly creeping closer toward her, watching as she breathed slowly to steady herself, her hand still over her face.

"I don't know if I want that, Logan." It was so soft he almost thought he imagined it.

"Maybe you need to."

Ororo looked up, and Logan stilled his breath at the white of her eyes. "It's been so long. I don't…" She turned her gaze back down.

Logan stopped in his progression toward her, and swallowed. Swallowed that thick slice of pride past his throat to mingle with the shame. "You were right. Ororo. You were right."

She took in a deep breath as she raised her gaze once more to meet Logan's, the swirling white of her eyes slowly dulling, but never leaving.

"I wasn't…" Logan swallowed again, took one more step, trying to force out the words that had been lodged in his throat for days, festering there without speech. "I'm not the only one."

Ororo cocked her head in question.

"I'm not the only one with burdens, and I had forgotten that. Or, maybe I never really got it in the first place but…I know you hurt too."

Ororo gripped her arms to her, and she almost shrank in on herself.

It made Logan reach out a hand subconsciously, lift his fingers to her shoulder in a motion he didn't even realize he was doing. And somewhere, he felt it comforted him to. But she pulled her shoulder softly from his grip and Logan almost yanked it back, forgetting. How could he think she'd let him touch her again so quickly? It made him want to crawl away in shame.

Logan looked at her holding herself, cradled in the wind he wondered if she knew she was creating. And he realized it was the first time that Ororo Munroe did not look him in the eye, that she did not stand to her full height, that she did not challenge him silently with every stance and look. It was something he thought she'd always carry, that defiance. And he'd gotten so used to it that now, watching her here, in the growing orange light of the sun, the heavy wind that rocked the branches above them, he thought he might have actually hurt her beyond repair. Said words that could never be taken back. Cut wounds that could not be closed. And it was the first time he could remember feeling regret.

Even loving Jean, even hurting Jean, even killing Jean. He never regretted it, because it was what he felt he had to do, what he felt he couldn't help. But with Ororo, there was so much he wanted to take back.

He wanted to take back his initial disregard of her when they first met. He wanted to take back his underestimation of her abilities. He wanted to take back how he ignored her in the face of Jean. He wanted to take back his belittling of her emotions. The vacant greetings. The empty conversations. The wordless breakfasts. Passing her in the halls without a hello. Never offering help with paperwork. Never taking her up on a Danger Room invitation. But most of all, he wants to take back the apathy of his words in the med-lab, the coldness he slung at her, the stupidity that she was anything less than he.

But he couldn't. Time had already begun it's wheel, and he realizes once again that she is right. The world has continued spinning without him. He wakes up every morning another day behind everyone else. And the nights are never filling enough to make it up.

Logan looks back down at her. "Storm…"

She shakes her head. "No, Logan." She sucks sweet air into her lungs and pulls her shoulders back, lowering her arms to her sides. When she looks at him next, he can see the blue of her irises.

"When you can be honest with me…" she began. "When you can tell me the parts of you that you're most ashamed of, then maybe, maybe I will do the same."

Logan continued to stare at her, before nodding silently. "Alright."

Ororo blinked, straightened her back. "Then I will be waiting for you, Logan. And I promise, I will tell you everything you want to know."

There was a moment, a second of agreed silence, an imaginary hand outstretched between them that started what might have been the first seedlings of truth between the two, before Logan was turned and walking away, his throat itching with unspokens he didn't know how to lay out.


	4. This 'Touch' Thing

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: I really have no idea what I'm writing chapter to chapter but somehow this story is continuing on it's own, and these characters are too stubborn to just finish things. So chapters will keep coming until I see an end in sight. I apologize if they're not as quick as some might like but I do promise to continue. I know there's not a whole lot of Ororo here but hey, she gets here important roles. Also, one thing I find utterly important. Everything for this story I take from the happenings in the movies (all three) _except_ Ororo's horrible haircut and dye-job in the third one. I am a true believer in her long white hair and this story continues in that belief. It never happened guys.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Four: This 'Touch' Thing

"_He wants more than the licking of wounds."_

Rogue was lounging on the couch in the mansion's rec room, flipping through soap operas and infomercials and midday movie marathons when she first saw Logan that day. He had wondered in through the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer, before making his way over to the television she sat in front of. He stopped just at the edge of the couch when she glanced up to see who it was that was blocking a speaker.

"Surround sound," she stated simply.

Logan pulled the bottle from his lips with a raised brow. "'Scuse me, darlin'?

Rogue lifted a finger to point at the speaker box directly behind him on the stand. He turned slightly to see the small box and that he was standing on the cable. "Huh. Well, would ya look at that."

Rogue huffed. "Do you mind moving, Logan? I can't hear the background noise."

Logan smirked as he looked back at her. "And that's important to me?"

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him as she began to crawl over the arm of the couch to get to the cable.

Logan chuckled. "Alright, alright, darlin'. Just scooch over so I can sit." He stepped over to the couch, releasing the cable from the tread of his boots, and Rogue almost had to hurl herself over so he wouldn't sit on her.

"Thank you ever so much," she drawled out, while she curled her legs underneath her and rested the remote back in her hands.

"Watcha watching, kiddo?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Whatever's on."

"Huhn."

Rogue continued to flip through the channels restlessly. Logan was content in just watching the stations as they crossed the screen. He took a glance at Rogue as she sat next to him and stopped as he noticed there was something alarmingly different about her. It took him a moment to register the change, its subtlety normally going unnoticed but Logan had looked at this girl enough times in his life to make him stop and realize that her arms were bare. The idea was confusing to him at first, because why wouldn't anybody have bare arms? But for Rogue, it was different. And it was a few seconds before Logan realized it was because he never saw her bare arms.

Rogue was holding the remote with unclad fingers, and the sight of her missing gloves had Logan staring uncertainly at her hands for several seconds. Then he remembers that she had taken the "cure".

"It's weird, huh?"

Rogue's voice cut through Logan's confusion and he shot his head up to catch her still staring at the screen.

"What?"

Rogue quirked a small smile. "It's been months I know but, even to me, it's extremely new. This 'touch' thing."

Logan kept quiet.

She turned her head to look at Logan and he noticed the slight wetness at the corners of her eyes.

"You know, you never think about all the things you're missing until you can't touch things. I mean, textures and all. Who would've thought I'd miss textures? The scratchiness of yarn, the roughness of jeans, the smoothness of wood. Even cold things and hot things." She sniffed slightly.

"God, Marie, are ya gonna cry on me?"

Rogue scoffed and wiped one eye. "Ugh, Logan, just shut up for once."

Logan lowered his eyes, realizing he was interrupting her in what seemed to be a sudden realization of her own. "Sorry."

She sighed. "It's okay, Logan. I just…with Bobby…"

"Please don't go inta details about your new discoveries."

Rogue narrowed her eyes once more and Logan held up his hands in defense. "I'm just givin' ya fair warning. If you get too nasty on me I'm leavin'."

She resisted the smile tugging at her lips. "It's not that, you pervert. I'm just…not even used to the feel of someone's skin. The…," she paused, looking down at her own hands. "The idea that I _can _touch someone."

Logan cocked his head. "Ya mean without hurtin' them?" he finished softly.

Rogue looked back up at him uncertainly, the television forgotten, the remote resting in her lap. "Sort of." She drew in a breath. "It's like…have you ever thought about the kind of trust that goes into _letting_ someone touch you?"

Logan stopped, and blinked, because he honestly had no idea what she was talking about. The only kind of trust in touching he had encountered was some nondescript woman in a bar letting him have at it. He smirked slightly at the thought.

Rogue scowled. "Not like how you're thinking, Logan."

"Darlin', you don't know _what_ I'm thinkin'."

"Well, just forget that and listen to me. It's like, your body is the only thing you're born into this world actually owning. The only thing you can really say 'No one gave me this. And you can't take it' about. Letting someone touch you, even in the smallest of touches, is like saying 'I trust you. Implicitly. I trust you with all that I own and have'. Do you understand?"

Logan had a hard time turning away from her eyes, because he had a small feeling that she was desperately hoping for him to acknowledge it. That feeling. That trust. Like how she had trusted him that night he accidently ran her through in the throes of his nightmare, and she had borrowed his ability to heal. Or the night he had trusted her when he thought Magneto's contraption had drained her life away, and he dared to bring her back. He thought she was looking for someone to share that with, that idea that someone out there trusted them with their lives.

He wanted to say, "Yes. I know exactly what you mean." But then he was taken back to that morning that Storm shied away from his touch, the morning she told him to be honest with her. And he felt ashamed that there was someone he knew for so long and yet didn't know at all.

"Can you imagine what it takes to let that person in?"

Logan found that Rogue was staring at her hands again, her fingers curled in on themselves, her fists almost trembling. "It's so much, Logan. It's so much that I hardly think I deserve it sometimes."

Logan scoffed at that. "Marie, if anyone's deserving it's you, darlin'.

Rogue smiled softly, and bit her lip. "I'm just so thankful, and I only hope that I can do that for Bobby. And I want to be over this stupid fear to let him in."

The idea was odd, wanting to reach out and touch her arm, her shoulder, anything belonging to her, and it made him grasp for her wrist awkwardly.

Rogue pulled her head up to find Logan staring at her.

"It's not stupid."

She wanted to stop tearing up over something so ridiculous, so small, and she hated that Logan was the one to see her like this. But maybe, maybe Logan was her best option for understanding. And she figured he more than anyone else she knew understood what it was like to be afraid of opening those gates. Well, not that he'd ever admit it was fear.

"Believe me, darlin'. It's not stupid. And I know it's a lot."

She figured he wouldn't exactly have a pep talk up his sleeve, considering how much he disliked talking in the first place, but it was comforting just to think that someone else knew what it felt like. It was just enough that in his own way he was trying to tell her that he was lost, too. That he had no idea how to start being honest, how to start being bare before another person.

Vulnerability was everyone's fear in this place, in more ways than one. But for the first time Logan realized that he wanted to be vulnerable in front of someone. And he was surprised to realize that it wasn't Jean he was thinking about. There was someone else he wanted to show himself to. To bare all his shame, all his short-comings, all his raw ugliness. And it wasn't because he wanted the same in return.

It wasn't about finding out the secrets of Storm's past anymore, or discovering her own hurts just to ease his. This was more than a licking of wounds. Logan wanted trust.

"_When you can tell me the parts of you that you're most ashamed of, then maybe, maybe I will do the same."_

"Well, shit." Ororo dropped her forehead into her palms, her elbows resting on the piles of papers cluttering her desk. First and foremost was the loan she needed to sign and fax to her lawyer, and after that, she had her first three classes' essays to grade. She really didn't feel like reading a few dozen teenagers' opinions on Napoleon and his objectives. Nor did she feel like typing up the midterm she had to have ready for her classes in a little over a week.

With one hand she rubbed at her temple while trying to push back the headache over her left eye with the other. Words were running into themselves, lines were blurring and she found that she kept coming back to her reaction to Logan those few mornings ago and cursing herself.

"I really do not look forward to hearing about this man's past, if by chance he even feels like divulging it for my ears."

She sighed and dropped a hand to pick up the loan resting innocently on her desk, bringing it closer for her eyes to read. After several attempts at focusing she threw the paper across her desk and rose from her chair to make her way to the large window behind her desk. The afternoon was just coming to an end and the trees at the estate's perimeter blocked the sun's beams of light from fully entering the room, casing streaks over her red silk blouse, the top buttons of which were unfastened. Her suit's jacket was resting on the couch along the back wall of her office, and below that on the floor were her heeled boots. She smiled as she glanced at them, then turned to look at her bare feet, her toes scrunching the carpet beneath her.

She knew she'd have to suit back up if she decided to go outside her office and took the moment to imagine never leaving her sanctuary. She rubbed her forehead once more, feeling the headache start to pound behind her eyelid and reached up to loosen the braid her hair was in, hoping that the release would ease the strain on her head.

Just then there was a tentative knock on her door and Ororo turned surprised, used to having no one asking for her at this time of day. All the students should be heading to dinner she thought, and the faculty even. She returned to stand behind her desk before she called out for the person to enter. The doorknob turned and she almost sank in on herself when she saw Logan hesitantly peer in.

"Yes, Logan?" she asked, almost exasperated.

Logan took a glance at her and thought for some reason he was intruding on another one of her escapes, her releases. He caught sight of her bare feet peeking out of her slacks from under her desk, the loosened silk of her top, and even her hair running over her shoulders. And though he was not seeing her undressed or anything he couldn't help but feel that he was seeing her in a way that he shouldn't be. He had to stop in the threshold as he watched her, catching the blue of her eyes even from where he stood and he realized he liked her much better out of business attire. The way she looked now he could almost imagine her listening to him, hearing him out as he tried to peel away the layers of distance for her to see him. The way she looked now, it was getting harder and harder for him to think she was Storm, but instead, Ororo.

"There's something I need to tell you," he managed to get out, as he closed the door behind him.


	5. Walk Before You Run

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: I put this one out rather quickly after the other simply because I left you guys with a cliffhanger and I hate when others do that, so I wasn't going to be one of those authors. I felt though that this scene needed to be laid out seperately, which is why I split it into another chapter. Next one might not be so soon though. Also, I noticed as I was writing this that Ororo rarely lets Logan speak. He can't seem to get a word in edgewise, which is probably why they can never communicate. Ah, Ororo, give the guy some slack.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Five: Walk Before You Run

"_Logan wasn't one to walk before he ran. But with her, he may consider it."_

When he stopped to think about it, Logan really had no idea what he should say when he decided to enter Ororo's office. He remembers talking with Rogue in the rec room, before Bobby entered and Rogue, sniffing back reluctant tears, smiled at him as she clasped Bobby's hand, walking with him out of the rec room. He remembers chugging down the rest of his beer, and then flipping through channels, and then standing in front of the open refrigerator door for a couple minutes before deciding he wasn't hungry and closing the door, his hands empty.

"Do not waste like that, Logan. Energy is not cheap here," he imagines Storm scolding him were she down there. And he finds it so easy to imagine things she'd say to him now. It's so easy for him to go back to her.

The next thing he knew he found himself walking the stairs to the third floor. And then he was passing all the classrooms, making his way to her door at the end of the hall. Suddenly, it was so easy. It was so easy to realize what he had wanted to say to her that early morning outside the mansion.

He remembers the burning along his throat with words he couldn't say at the time. Ideas he couldn't fathom ever breaching air, and suddenly, it's so easy to know exactly what he wants to tell her. Honesty. That's what she wanted to hear, and now Logan knew exactly where to start.

He watches as his hand comes up of its own accord to knock upon the wood of her door. There is a silence for a moment, a silence that threatens to break his newfound words but there is then an answer from the other side of the door and he doesn't know if it was "Go away" or "Come in" because he's already opening the door, already looking in to find her.

Ororo.

And suddenly, it's not so easy.

He finds his throat is empty when he looks at her, the orange light filtering in behind her.

"Yes, Logan?" she asks, and he thinks he hears a sigh somewhere in there.

God, if she'd only _listen_ to him for once.

"There's something I need to tell you." He shuts the door behind him.

Ororo looks at him, trying to gauge his approach, planning an escape route out of the conversation.

"May I ask what it pertains to? Is there a problem with a student?" She hopes to detract him somehow, turn this into something she can control.

"It has nothing to do with a student. It's about me. And you too somewhat" He sees how she's trying to evade the conversation, how she turns her head slightly so they no longer have eye contact, the way she casually rifles through the papers on her desk.

"I do not quite understand what it is you are talking about, Logan." Ororo stops moving papers along her desk and walks over to the couch along her wall to grab her jacket. "Can we speak about this at dinner? It is around that time now. We should be heading down." She puts one arm through a sleeve.

"No. I need ta talk to ya alone, Storm." He took a few steps into the room, moving toward the couch himself.

Once she had her jacket back on she took a seat and grabbed a boot, starting to pull it over her foot. "Perhaps another time then."

"For fuck's sake, Storm. Would you just fucking shut up for once?" Logan hadn't meant it to come out so harsh but if she kept dogging him he'd never get it out.

She paused in putting on her other boot, looking up at him with disapproving eyes. "We have been over this before, Logan. Do not speak to me like that."

"Look, I just need ya to listen. Ya promised you'd do that much."

"I said 'maybe', Logan." She had her second boot pulled on now and stood up, brushing her hair off her collar. "Perhaps you should learn to distinguish the difference."

"I'm not leaving until you let me speak." Logan grit his teeth, moving to block her path to the door.

Ororo huffed. "Well have you thought that maybe I do not want to hear what you have to say? Every word you spit at me is only to force me into a corner, to force me to bend to your rules, to make you comfortable. Well, I'm not doing it Logan." Her voice was steadily rising.

Logan clenched his fists at his sides. "I'm not tryin' to force you anywhere, Storm. This is about me. I'm tryin' to make this right."

"And how do you propose to 'make it right'?" she scoffed, throwing her hands into the air. "Huh? How do you plan to do that? Throw some bullshit at me and expect me to spill my insides all over this carpet?"

Logan drew in a deep breath. "No, that's not – "

"I wasn't thinking straight when I said I'd promise to do the same. Once again, you had me backed into a corner. You like to do that don't you? Corner your prey and push them further and further against the wall." Her chest was heaving, her head shaking. "Until they can't run away and you tear them apart, huh?"

"Prey? What the fuck?" He was almost yelling, his hands running through his hair, his skin tingling with the frustration. "What the hell are you screaming about? I never thought of you like that. I'd never – fuck – you just get people so riled up they can't even speak to you in normal terms!" He turned to pace away.

"Oh. So I drive them away. That's it now isn't it?" she spat as she strode to follow him. "And this is coming from you? You have no idea what goes on in other people's lives, do you? You have no consideration for anyone else's pain."

Logan turned back sharply, making her almost stumble in her halt so as not to run into him. His eyes flashed at her. "That's why I'm fuckin' here, Storm! I told you before, I know I'm not the only one hurting. It was stupid of me, sure. But don't you dare," he raised a finger to point in her face, "Don't you dare make this out to be my fault alone."

Storm's cheeks flushed with rage and she wanted to smack his finger from under her nose. Her hair was beginning to crackle with electricity. "Then what? What are you so dying to tell me?" she yelled as she threw up her hands. "What are you so desperately trying to change here?"

There was so much, so much he wanted to change but couldn't explain in words. At least not in words she's want to listen to, not in thoughts she'd want to think about.

"Everything! Shit, I don't want it to be like this between us." Logan could feel the anger tightening in his belly, the itch of adamantium beneath his skin, the puffs of air escaping his nostrils.

"There is no 'between us', Logan. There's you and there's me," she explained as she pointed first to him and then to herself, "and it will never mix. We cannot begin to understand each other so why bother?"

"Because I don't want understanding, you idiot! I want – I want – " He had no idea what he wanted anymore.

"Idiot?" Ororo screeched. "How dare you! Do not ever – "

"I don't want every conversation to turn into a fight, goddamn it!" He pushed toward her. She didn't step back.

"Then don't call me an idiot, you Neanderthal."

"God, just – you make me so fucking angry sometimes."

"Well, likewise. So just tell me whatever you were going to shove down my throat anyway so you can get out of my office and we can get on with our lives. Seperately." She spread her hands through the air to emphasize it, and at that moment, Loagn heard something.

He couldn't be sure, it was so faint, even to his ears, but maybe, maybe he was right. There was the soft noise of a sniffle. And _fuck_! Did every goddamn woman have to tear up in front of him. But it made him silently wonder if he really was that much of an asshole.

He stopped to look at her, and in that moment, he noticed the tint of red on her normally dark cheeks, the throbbing muscle that ran from her neck down underneath the collar of her shirt where he couldn't follow it. The way her entire body seemed to pulse with her rage, her full lips pursed and ready to spit more words to sting. And suddenly it wasn't so easy. It wasn't so easy to look away, to remember what he came here to tell her in the first place. He tore his eyes from her face and stared at his feet, the silence bringing his breathing down, his fingers loosening their curled positions.

"I just…wanted to say something real."

Ororo stopped. She blinked a couple times, schooled her breathing into more regular patterns and tried to find a response. But his voice, the way it sounded. Almost defeated. And she never thought she'd hear that kind of tone from _him_. It shocked her into silence.

"Just something…that you'd never know about me unless I told you myself." Logan raised his eyes, trying to find her blue ones in the haze of fired tempers and raised guards. "Something truthful."

Ororo opened her mouth to retort but found she had nothing to counter. Nothing to sling at him for something she had asked for herself. But she was hardly foolish enough to believe that Logan could lay it all out for anyone, let alone her.

"I want this to be the beginning."

Ororo narrowed her eyes, and finding her voice finally, said "The beginning of what exactly?"

"Of the truth. Between us."

Ororo found she had no answer but silence, as she waited for him to continue.

"I just wanted you to know that I…" he looked back down again, searching for the words as though they were in his hands and he had dropped them, scattering them over the floor at his feet. And he had to find the pieces and pick them up. "That I…" He looked around the room, looked for something he could tell her, looked for the first remnants of him that he wanted her to know.

"That you what, Logan?" she asked as she rested her hands on her hips.

Logan looked to her. "That I hate orange juice."

There was a moment, a split second in which Ororo tried to process his words, before the confusion leapt from her lips. "What?"

"I don't know why. I don't know if it was something from my past that I can't remember, but I really do. I hate orange juice. I can't even stand the smell." He said it so casually, so nonchalantly that Ororo had to take a moment to question her sanity.

"All this for…you mean you came in here to…" she couldn't finish a single sentence, and it almost made Logan smile. "You had us screaming over _orange juice_?" she almost screeched.

"Well, I was trying to tell you that before you tried to bite my head off."

Ororo turned away, her arms crossed, one hand over her mouth. "God, you are so…you are so infuriating," she managed to get out.

And then Logan saw it. He had to squint for a moment to catch it but there it was, resting behind her hand so slight anyone else would have missed it. A smirk. And then there was a muffled snort from behind her palm, and Logan began to shake his head.

"No. Don't you dare. Don't you dare laugh at me, Storm."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes and her smirk began to widen. "Sorry, I just…" she tried to stop another snort from escaping. "It's just…" She tried desperately to keep the giggles at bay, turning to face him. "So if you ever come at me again I can just throw oranges at you, right?" she said as the first peel of laughter managed to squeeze past her hand and she had to clamp it tight over her mouth as she watched Logan glaring at her.

"A ha ha. That was hilarious," he deadpanned.

She snorted once more, then straightened her shoulders, controlling herself once again. "I apologize, Logan, it's just…well, you have to admit it's rather ridiculous."

Logan shrugged. "Small steps, Storm. It takes small steps to build trust."

She quieted when he said that. And it made her think. Did she really want trust between them? Did she really want to lay that bridge down? It would be so much easier to just say no. To deny ever wanting that kind of openness between them. But then she'd look at him and watch the way his eyes roamed her face for an answer. The way he stood vulnerable to her, when she could at any moment strike him. And she realized that maybe the reason they never got to the bridge-laying before was because neither of them had really found a respect for the other. With most of the other members in the X-men, respect grew from an initial fear, as much as Storm would like to argue otherwise. Even mutants are wary of mutants. But in discovering each other's weaknesses, they discovered their humanity.

Logan and Ororo never got that chance.

Inwardly, Ororo smiled at his stubborness. She had to admit, it took a great amount of perseverance to change her mind, and Logan was so obviously trying to does so. Change her mind. About him.

She was beginning to feel the effects of his efforts.

Ororo drew in a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders for the first time since he entered the room. "True." She nodded. "You must first learn to walk before you can run."

Logan found himself unable to stop staring. "And I fully intend to do so."


	6. Throwing the Gauntlet

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: I apologize for this one coming out a bit later than planned but hopefully you all will enjoy it regardless. I'd just like to thank all of you who have reviewed, believe me it helps. Fanfiction writing is not nearly a priority for me these last couple of years but seeing a response keeps me happily doing it. I always appreciate it. So here you go.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Six: Throwing the Gauntlet

"_The challenge begins. Can Logan keep up?"_

"Thank you again, Ororo. These records will be extremely helpful at the conference next week." Hank McCoy smiled as he held up a manila folder of papers before her. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his blue nose.

Ororo smiled over her shoulder, striding across her office to set her own stack of papers atop her mahogany desk. "Of course, Hank. If you think of any other files that Charles might still have logged away that could help you, please, do not hesitate to ask. I know it helped with your lecture in Chicago." She sighed, dropping the stack atop the wood of the desk and reached back to brush a falling strand of hair behind her ear.

"So which department of Headmistress Hell do those papers belong to?" Hank chuckled.

Ororo quirked a smile at his question, propping her hands up to lean on the desk. "They are the financial forms for this year's incoming students."

Hank dramatically winced. "Ooh, ouch."

Ororo let out a laugh and turned to him, walking over to stand in front of him. "You know, you could always stay and help me out with these," she offered, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, I guess I'll be going, Ororo." He gave a short salute, one leg already for the door.

"Oh stop," she admonished, smacking one of his furry arms.

He smiled at her. "You know I would be more than happy to assist you Ororo."

She nodded silently, raising her hands to grasp his. "I know, Hank. I know. However, your new position does not allow for such time and freedom. It is alright. I appreciate everything you do for me here, and for the students."

"No need. It was not only Charles' dream, you know." Hank cocked his head in her direction, clasping her hands beneath his larger ones. He held them for a moment, before Ororo pulled away and went to remove her suit jacket.

"So," she started, resting the jacket over the back of her chair, "how long will you be away this time?"

"The original plan is for three weeks but if all goes well with this conference, we can hope to attend the New Orleans one before we head back north." He shrugged. "It could be a couple months perhaps. And how will you fare, my friend?"

Ororo placed her hands on her hips. "Busily, I suppose." She huffed a breath of air out that blew another reluctant white strand from her face. "But…," she looked around her office a moment, "I should find something else really, to occupy my time in a more…relaxing manner."

Hank rubbed his chin for a moment. "When was the last time you had a Danger Room session?"

Ororo blinked. "Well, I suppose since before…" she trailed off.

"Since before," Hank nodded. It didn't need saying _since before Jean_.

"That is actually a very good idea, Hank. Exercise is always therapeutic for the mind. And I have always believed that a healthy body is the start to a healthy life." Ororo dropped her hands from her hips. "How about I walk you out, Hank? I have to head back to my room to grab some clothes for the Danger Room anyway."

"I would love the pleasure of your company, Ororo." He grinned, his canines glinting in the light as he held out his arm for Ororo to take. She walked forward, linking her arm with his.

Ororo smiled brilliantly at him. "Then, shall we?"

* * *

"Hey, Furball, you sneakin' out on me?"

Hank turned to find Logan striding across the courtyard, an arm raised in his direction. Hank chuckled and pocketed his keys, turning to Logan.

Logan stepped into the open garage and stopped in front of Hank.

"There's no escape from you then is there?" Hank smiled, his hands in his pockets.

"Nah, I'm too quick for that." Logan folded his arms across his chest. "You out?"

"Yes, for a couple months maybe. I'll be sure to send you a postcard though, sweetie," Hank grinned jovially.

Logan growled. "Watch it, or you might not make yer plane."

"And here I am thinking Ororo's the dangerous one."

Logan raised a brow. "I wouldn't say she ain't."

Hank laughed. "Just keep her in one piece for me while I'm away," he replied, patting Logan's arm with his large blue hand.

Logan rubbed the back f his neck. "Why does everyone think I'm the one doing damage here?"

Hank eyed him skeptically. "Because you're not exactly known for your peace and serenity, Logan. Or your self-control."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan waved a hand at Hank, "sure, that's cute. Look, speaking of Storm, you know where she is? I gotta talk to her."

Hank narrowed his eyes. "Do I really want to tell you?" He more mused it to himself then to Logan.

"Goddamn it, Hank, I'm not a fucking bomb." Logan dropped his arms from across his chest. "I can talk to people you know."

"I know, Logan. Calm down." Hank's lips curled into a smirk, hidden slightly by the rampant blue fur of his face. "Just don't destroy the Danger Room when you find her."

Logan raised a brow, then started for the garage door.

Hank watched him stride away. "Promise me, Logan," he said a bit louder.

Logan turned just in time to send a smirk and a wink Hank's way before he was out the door and into the mansion. Hank shook his head and pulled his keys from his pocket, readying his car to leave.

* * *

When Logan walked through the doors of the Danger Room, he immediately heard the low thuds coming from the exercise room. He walked through the practice section and past the computer control room to the last room on the end. He stepped into the open threshold and looked about the room. It was the mansion's own personal gym, used as preparation before any sessions in the Danger Room. Logan scratched the rough stubble lining his chin as he perked his ears to pinpoint where the thuds were coming from. He glanced around all the different pieces of equipment and caught movement in the far corner.

He knew it was Storm. He could smell her sweat and hear the puffs of air escaping her mouth from where he stood. "Permission to enter, captain?" he fairly yelled, grinning.

There was a subtle grunt and then the thuds stopped, followed by a heavy rhythmic breathing. It filled his ears.

He didn't wait for an answer, stepping around the heavy equipment until he came to the far corner where he saw Storm leaning one arm on the edge of a punching bag, her other propped up on her hip. He could see the strips of tape around her knuckles and realized where the thuds had come from. She was wearing a sleek pair of cotton gym pants and some sort of gym sports bra, so that Logan could see the sweat beading down her dark stomach. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, some stark white strands plastered to her forehead with the sweat. She looked up when she saw Logan's heavy boots enter her vision, her chest heaving with the breaths.

She straightened a bit, but still leaned on the bag. "Oh by all means, please, come on in, Logan," she said, her eyes slightly narrowed.

He crossed his arms across his broad chest, leaning on the wall beside her. "Don' mind if I do."

Ororo frowned slightly. "I am in the middle of exercise, Logan, warming up for a Danger Room session."

Logan glanced at her apparel. "Yeah, I can tell."

Her frown deepened. "Can I help you, Logan?"

He sniffed, rubbing his nose. "Nah, actually, it ain't about me."

She cocked her head a bit, pulling up to plant both hands on her hips. "What do you mean?"

Logan pushed off from the wall and leveled his eyes on her. "I wanted to talk to ya about Rogue, Storm."

She brushed some strands behind her ear, steadying her heavy breathing. "Go on." She began to peel the tape from her knuckles.

Logan sighed. "I know you let her finish out the year, but summer's coming. That means next school year's coming too."

"I am aware of this. What is your point?"

"My point is that she took the cure. She ain't a mutant anymore. So…" he trailed off a moment.

Ororo stared at him. "So…"

Logan rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Storm, this is the only home she knows. You can't just kick her out 'cause her genes have changed. She's still Rogue. She's still one of us."

Ororo set aside the tape, rubbing her raw hands. "No, she is not still one of us," she said stiffly.

Logan huffed. "That's bullshit, Storm, and you know it. She saved our lives when she flew that jet to us, after Striker would have had us die," he growled. He pointed a finger in her direction. "You owe her your life, Storm."

Ororo glared hotly at his finger. "Remove your finger from my face, Logan," she said lowly.

Logan stared at her hard for a second, before dropping his hand to his side. "You at least owe her that much."

Ororo closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, calmly. "Logan, I will not raise my voice with you. I am through with our arguments and petty disagreements. But do not presume to think that you can guilt me into a decision."

"Look, I get it. I know." He raised his hands up in surrender. "I ain't here to push you in another corner. Can we just…discuss this? Calmly?"

Ororo reigned in her frustration and nodded. "Yes. Just be aware that should you push me I have no qualms about using force, Logan. Or oranges." She cracked a smirk.

Logan narrowed his eyes at her. "Quit using that shit. I don't use things against you, darlin'."

"I will stop if you promise to stop swearing, at least in my presence. Deal?" She stretched out one graceful hand.

Logan eyed her warily for a second, then reached out and roughly shook her hand. "Deal."

"Good." Ororo withdrew her hand. "Now, as I said before, she is no longer one of the X-Men and –"  
Logan growled lowly. "Storm – "

"But," she raised a hand to stop his interruption, and Logan glared at her for the silent command, "that only means that she has forfeited her place on the team. I cannot allow a mere human to place ranks and thus put the rest of us in danger. On this, I will not compromise." She drew in a deep breath, thankful that for once Logan was shutting up. "That is an entirely different situation than school placement."

Logan raised a brow at her words. "So…" he started hopefully.

"_So_," she crossed her arms over her chest. "Rogue is free to finish out whatever schooling she feels necessary here at the mansion before she attends university. I am fully aware that this is the only place she has felt accepted by others and it is not my place to dislodge someone from that kind of belongingness. It is not something I could ever sanction."

Logan dropped his arms when she had finished and slowly, she saw his teeth come to light as his lips pulled back into a wide smile. "Don' worry, darlin'. I won't tell people 'bout your bleeding heart."

Storm raised a brow. "Nor I you."

Logan clapped his hands together. "Well, now that that's done with, you ready for that Danger session?"

Ororo raised a finger into the air. "One more thing, Logan. There is, however, someone else whom I am afraid can no longer leech off of the mansion's hospitality."

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. "Who's that?"

She smirked at him, and Logan had a funny feeling he didn't want to ask. "You, Logan."

His mouth dropped and he spluttered for a moment, before balling his fists and almost shouting, "_Leeching_?"

"Yes, Logan. After taking a look at the financial reports for this year I am afraid that I have to make budget cuts, and seeing as you are staying here on a full welcome, without putting anything of your own toward the mansion's upkeep, you seem to be the perfect option for my first cut."

Logan could not believe she was saying this. "You're tryin' to slyly kick me out on my ass!"

"Language, Logan, remember? Or I bring out the oranges."

"Oh fuck that," he waved a hand through the air, stepping away from her so he wouldn't have the urge to punch her.

"I am, however, more than willing to make a few concessions myself." She had said it so softly, so yieldingly, that Logan had to turn to look at her.

She was staring at the ground, her finger playing with a loose strand of white hair. "You would always be welcomed here Logan, and provided with anything you would need, if you would concede to becoming part of the school's faculty." She looked up then, her bright irises catching Logan's.

He paused, squinting at her in confusion. "Are you asking me to be a teacher at this little playpen?"

She placed her hands on her hips again, a signal that Logan was slowly starting to recognize as a defensive position.

"I mean 'school'."

Ororo swallowed thickly. "We take very meticulous care of the staff here, and you would be providing support and education to our students, many of whom already feel secure with you here at the school. You would be provided with a salary and housing and your place on the X-Men team would be permanent, regardless of whether you left your post at any time in the future."

"A teacher?" he asked again, slowly.

Ororo huffed slightly. "Yes. Is it that difficult of a concept to grasp?"

"No, it's just…" he raised his brows, "what the hell am I supposed to teach?"

"Whichever subject you wish, provided I am given some form of verification of your competency in it."

Logan laughed. "Sure, that's rich. Look, can I think about it?"

"Of course. I had not expected a quick acceptance. There will be, however, a few stipulations should you accept the position.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Figures."

Storm held out a finger. "First, there will be consequences for foul and disruptive language in the presence of students."

Logan held up his hands. "What?"

"Second," Ororo counted out her second finger, "there will be no smoking of any tobacco or nicotine products within any of the mansion's facilities, secret or not."

"Well, damn."

"Third, the school refrigerator will no longer house your personal supply of prohibited alcohol beverages."

"Can't say 'beer', Storm?" He chuckled.

"_Fourth_," she ground out. "There will be no exceptions to the Faculty Code of Conduct. Either follow the rules Logan, or get out."

Logan shook his head. "You're no fun, Storm. Any other laws you're laying done here or are we done?"

"Oh there will be more, and should you decide to stay on staff I will provide you with full documentation of said rules. Until then, just one last one."

"Oh, I'm dying to hear it," he deadpanned.

Storm dropped the hand she had been counting on and pulled her shoulders back as she stared at him. "You must always be honest and forthcoming with me, or this relationship will crumble."

Logan was silent. He watched as her eyes suppressed the familiar white when emotion clouded her powers, and figured that this was her way of opening the gates. Intentionally. With full knowledge of who she was letting through.

The gauntlet had been thrown.

But was he up to the challenge?

Logan swallowed, breaking the stillness as he raised his hand once more in front of her. "You have my word."

Ororo's shoulders relaxed softly, and she smiled, fully, without hesitation. Logan realized he wanted to see it more often. She reached forward and took his rough hand in her own slender one. She could feel the rough callousness of his palms, and he the tender skin of her fingertips.

"I know, "she answered finally.

Logan pulled his hand back. "So, how's that Danger session soundin' 'bout now?"

Ororo cocked a brow at him. "I remember the last time I allowed you into our Danger Room."

Logan smiled wolfishly at her. "Is that a yes?"

She smirked back at him. "Only if you can handle it, _Wolverine_."

"Then what're you waiting for, darlin'?"

Ororo raised her chin. "Computer, generate scenario TS184." She turned to Logan. "Do not hold back."

Logan's eyes flashed as the walls of the room changed to the holographic images of a burning Westchester. "Never with you."


	7. The Force Behind the Power

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Again, I apologize for the lateness but I am still here. I hope this chapter went in the right direction, still not too sure about it but hey, that's what reviews are for. I have a very important question to ask the readers. I did not start this piece intending a Storm/Logan romance, but at some points in the story in seems to tend that way. I never thought I should write it as a romance because first of all, it wasn't in the original storyline, and secondly, I acknowledge my complete inability to write functioning romances. I know I suck. It's okay, I've come to terms with that. But some readers leave comments about it being a pairing and I may be willing to steer in that direction if enough readers feel it will work that way. I can go either way now so please let me know which would make more sense and stay true to these characters. Thank you. And enjoy.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Seven: The Force Behind the Power

_"It was much larger than they thought, than they could begin to comprehend."_

"Goddamn, that was a rush!" Logan roared, smiling wildly as he tossed one of his boots to the floor before him. He was sitting on one of the benches in the locker room outside the Danger Room, untying the other boot. His unkempt hair was plastered to his forehead and sweat trickled down his back in a way that tingled his spine, his hands itching to rip the shirt straight from his shoulders. He paused at the thought, then looked to Ororo standing before him, untying her own shoes. He dropped the thought immediately and decided he could wait until he was in his own room.

Ororo had her foot propped onto the edge of the bench in front of Logan, her fingers working at the straps of her shoes. She sighed, wiping white strands from in front of her eyes. "Yes, I quite agree Logan." She raised her eyes to him from her stooped position. "Though I cannot boast the same souvenirs as you," she joked, motioning to his tattered sleeve.

Logan reached a hand up to touch the shreds, his fingers skimming the swollen edges of just-healing gashes across his shoulder. "Heh. Comes with the territory." He dropped his hand, rolling his shoulders slightly.

Ororo stood up straight and started walking to the lockers across the room. She opened hers, pulling out clean clothes, before her eyes drifted to a locker just down the line, the worn letters across the top spelling out _S. Summers_. Her hands stilled. "I suppose that is the blessing in your mutation. You need not fear the frailty the rest of us do."

Logan could see the light flutter of her lashes from his angle, before her eyes slowly met the floor. She quirked a small smile. "Humans can be so fragile."

Logan propped his hand on top of his knee, leaning forward as he scratched the rough stubble on his neck with his other hand. "Skin n' bones are easy to fix. Our bodies ain't that weak."

"Bodies, yes," she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, holding the fresh clothes against her chest, "but that is not what I was speaking of."

Logan stared at her, the way she stood there hugging her arms to her chest, breathing steadily. He shifted in his seat, dropping his arms and clearing his throat. He turned to look at the other lockers.

_O. Munroe_.

He could hear her slight laugh.

"I apologize, Logan." She turned fully to face him. "Not your pick of conversation, perhaps?"

Logan chuckled. "Ya got that right, darlin'." He tugged at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably.

_H. McCoy_.

Ororo nodded, setting the clothes down on the bench, then turned to grab a pair of shoes. She placed those atop the bench as well. "Well, I dare say you could have handled that session without me."

Logan glanced at her. "Nah, wouldn'ta been as much fun." He flashed his canines.

"How so?"

Logan continued pulling off his other boot. "I don't think I'll ever get over the fun of watching ya throw lightning bolts."

_R. Drake_.

Ororo frowned at him. "I do not 'throw' lightning bolts. I sense surges in –"

"-the electrical field and then redirect the channel of energy." Logan smirked at her. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."

Ororo narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, it is important that you understand that power. I am not Zeus, who can sunder Earth with lightning bolts at any whim."

"But you can play tha part." Logan grabbed the towel he had resting on the bench next to him, then brought it to his forehead.

_K. Wagner_.

Ororo sighed. She scrunched her eyebrows together. "It is actually not quite so easy. I am not sure how exactly to word this to fully explain."

Logan shrugged his shoulders. "Try." He dropped the towel from his forehead.

Ororo looked at Logan, trying to put together in her mind the simplest explanation she could give him. What it was like to be a weather goddess. The force behind the power. It was much larger than even she could fathom.

"I suppose it would be simpler to start with the distinction between mutants, and the balance of power that links the mutant to the mutation."

_P. Rasputin_.

Logan leaned one elbow over his knee. "Ya lost me when ya hit 'suppose', darlin'."

Ororo huffed through her nose. "Consider this Logan: some mutations are dependent on the host to exist, while some hosts are dependent on the mutation to exist."

Logan continued to look at her from his position on the bench, mulling that last statement over in his head a few times. Ororo took his silence as a cue to continue.

"For instance, your healing property, Logan," she began, motioning to his sore shoulder, "is dependent on you. Without your bodily systems and organs your mutation would cease to exist. It means nothing if there is not a body to heal." Ororo cocked her head silently, waiting for some form of response. "Do you follow, Logan?"

_W. Worthington III._

He grunted. "For now."

Ororo nodded, then placed a hand on her chest. "I, on the other hand, am not necessary for the weather. Storms will come and they will go and I am only allowed a small amount of control for the short time I am on this earth. When I tap into the atmosphere it is as though the Mother is lending me some form of her great power. I wield nothing. I am merely a messenger, a middle-man." She felt her lips turn up slowly, glancing down at her hands. "I am lucky to be part of something so great, something so encompassing. It has given me a much broader perspective on the world, as narrow-minded as I sometimes find myself." She smirked slightly, then lifted her head to look at Logan.

_K. Pryde._

Logan snorted. "Storm, yer the least narrow-minded person I know."

"Which is probably not saying much for me."

Logan glared at her. "I mean it, Storm. Yer practically the enemy of prejudice."

Ororo exhaled noisily. "You are seeing me after Charles' influence. Without him, I would still be the bigoted street urchin he found picking pockets in Cairo."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Logan waved his hands through the air wildly. "'Pickin' pockets'?" His brows shot up into his hairline.

Ororo laughed behind her hand. "Yes, Logan, believe it or not. I now have both Charles and the Mother to thank for my current disposition." She smiled softly. "There's a lot of love in this earth, when one cares to look for it."

_J. Grey._

Logan's eyes stopped on the locker just left of Ororo's shoulder. He was so still Ororo had to turn her own eyes on the worn letters lining Jean's old locker. She furrowed her brows, drawing in a deep breath. She cocked her head in Logan's direction glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

"You know that, Logan," she said softly, eyeing him, "do you not?"

Logan flicked his gaze toward the woman standing before Jean's locker. "Not at all, Storm," he replied blankly. His features had hardened suddenly, a harsh frown now dawning his face. He rose from his position on the bench, throwing the towel in his hand over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

Ororo turned sharply at his retreat. "Logan. 'Honest and forthcoming', remember?"

Logan stopped, glancing over his shoulder. "That don't mean I have to agree with ya."

Ororo huffed slightly. "No, you do not. But I would appreciate it if you did not walk out on a conversation."

Logan stared fixedly at her, and he was so still and unmoving it almost began to unnerve her. "We had our conversation. And now you've wondered into unwanted territory. And you don' know me well enough to ask that."

Ororo swallowed, the blunt warning still registering. His stare was heavy on her lids, his hands slowly curling in on themselves.

"We ain't there yet, Storm." It had come out almost as a growl, his lip curling.

Ororo's chest rose with indignation at the silent threat but she reigned in her breath and stilled her arms at her sides.

Logan took the instant as her retreat and turned sharply for the door.

Ororo's eyes followed his back once more. "Apparently Logan, we will never be there," she breathed heatedly.

Logan's ears caught the reply but he didn't dare turn back around to face her. He wouldn't give her the acknowledgment she demanded. He stalked out of the locker room snarling.

* * *

Ororo was in the kitchen when Rogue came upon her the next afternoon. Ororo was standing on one side of the kitchen island, slicing at a tomato and Rogue could see other vegetables from her greenhouse garden lining the countertop.

Rogue pulled herself onto one of the stools across the island from Ororo. "Hey, Ms. Munroe."

Ororo paused in her dicing to glance up at Rogue, a soft smile forming at the corners of her mouth. "Marie." She nodded, then turned her attention back to her vegetables. "What brings you downstairs at this time?"

Rogue leaned back slightly, biting her lip. "I uh...I wanted to thank you."

Ororo paused her cutting for a moment, looking up at Rogue. "For what?"

Rogue pursed her lips. "Logan told me he talked to you about my situation. The whole schooling thing."

Ororo nodded silently.

"Well, I know that you didn't have to keep me here, but you did. I'm so grateful you let me finish off my schooling. This is my home now, you know? And I know that I have no right to ask for a spot on the X-Team" she proclaimed, raising her hands in surrender, "but...if I could somehow prove useful in another way, well, I just don't want to give up completely on being an X-Man." Rogue's shoulders slumped as she dropped her hands.

Ororo was silent as she regarded her for a moment, then she spoke. "Marie, I cannot, in good conscience, place the lives of the team in your hands. As an X-Man, I do not think that you have any opportunities left. I understand that you want to stay close to the people around you, and so you would always be welcomed at the school. But unfortunately, your time as an X-Man is over, however short it was."

Rogue sighed, dropping her gaze to her hands. "I figured that was the case. And I understand, I guess. It just..." she laughed sadly. "It just sucks, you know?"

Ororo smiled softly at the girl before her. "Yes. I would have to agree. But Marie, you have so many opportunities for personal growth now. You have a chance at building relationships in ways you could not have before. That is an amazing gift. Believe me."

Rogue looked up at Ororo, smirking. "I know. And really, I get that deep down, that's what I want more." She nodded to herself.

Ororo smiled at Rogue, returning to the food before her. "So how is the afternoon treating you?"

Rogue scoffed, wriggling her hands beneath her on the stool. "I think you'd know, weather-goddess and all."

Ororo smirked slightly, peeking out the kitchen window where dark clouds gathered around the mansion, rolling in slowly with crisp gusts of wind occasionally pelting the windows. "I do not affect the resident weather, contrary to what some students may believe."

Rogue raised a brow. "Sure you're not having a bad day there?"

Storm stopped her movements on the countertop and slowly set aside the cutting knife, resting her gaze on Marie. She drew in a light breath, bracing her hands across the counter. "Marie, you of all people know how dangerous it is to be careless."

Rogue drew her eyes from Ororo's, shifting slightly on her hands. "I know," she replied softly. "But I suppose you have a lot more experience with control."

Ororo cocked her head slightly. "Not as much as you perhaps think. Yes, sometimes my emotions may cause a negative effect on the climate but I must always be conscious of that effect. I do not believe I have ever intentionally altered the atmosphere here at the mansion."

Rogue looked back at Ororo quizzically. "Even when it was raining and you wanted to have a nice sunny afternoon?"

Ororo smiled. "Especially then."

Rogue furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?" She leaned closer toward the counter. "Wouldn't you want to make the weather nice?"

Storm dropped her gaze to the scattered vegetables across the counter. "That would feel...wrong and...," she furrowed her brows, searching for the right words, "pointless, I suppose, in the face of all the disaster I have caused."

Rogue eyed her silently for a moment. "Disaster?"

Ororo brought her gaze back up to Rogue. "You are very young, Marie."

Rogue narrowed her eyes slightly. "And I can't understand the consequences of our mutations, is that it?"

Ororo eyed her for a moment, then softly shook her head. "No. You know full well what power lies in the hands of mutants, what used to lie in your hands."

Ororo's stare was so heavy Rogue had to drop her eyes, focus on the fraying denim of her jeans' pocket. "Then what? she asked hesitantly.

Storm swallowed, hoping the words would come easier, lighter along her tongue. Maybe if she could say it then it wouldn't feel so guilty when she remembered. "You are too young to remember." Ororo could feel her fingers shaking above the marble countertop.

Rogue pulled her hands from beneath her seat and laid them across the table, leaning over the edge. "Remember what?" she breathed, then swallowed. "Storm?"

Ororo did not blink as she continued to stare at Rogue. "You do not remember what it was like, when every day was war, when we would lay our heads down to sleep never knowing if we would wake the next morning." Ororo could feel the heaviness of her chest growing. "It is much more complicated now, there are so many lines of perspective. Before you either were a mutant, or you hated them. And it is pointless to stop some rainclouds when only years ago people died for it." Ororo lowered her head. "It is unfair to those who died with the guilt of being born."

Rogue sucked in a soft breath. "Oh God, Storm...you...?"

Ororo closed her eyes. "I have overcome that guilt myself, only because I had the love of Charles and my family, the X-Men." Ororo paused, opening her eyes to watch Rogue's still figure across the kitchen island. She sighed. "I was lucky."

Rogue inclined her head toward Ororo. "I didn't know you lived with that. I mean..." she opened and closed her mouth, searching for something to relate. But there wasn't. At least, not right then, not at that moment. Sure, she carried the guilt of every touch but never the guilt of existing.

What are you supposed to say to that? Congratulations for getting over it. You made it out of the fray alive. Sure, you've got some scars. You have the emotional expression of celery. You're just now starting to fully function in society.

No, you don't. It still hurts. It will always hurt. You will always live with those hands and what they've done.

Because Ororo always carried more than just herself. And sometimes, she couldn't carry it at all, and it would burst from her in hurricanes and typhoons and terrible rages of nature. Only she could feel the force behind the power, the terrible reality of being the constant survivor.

When they said survivor's guilt they couldn't even begin to imagine.

Rogue finally cleared her throat. "Ms. Munroe?" she asked shakily, clearing her throat a bit more harshly this time. "Storm?"  
Ororo raised her eyes to Rogue, the soft mist of white swirling just behind her lids.

Rogue shifted her seating slightly. "You can't imagine what it means to me," she straightened a bit in the stool, "that you told me that." Rogue smiled softly. "I know it doesn't really mean anything but...I've been trying to figure out why I was so alone for so long."

Ororo's brows knitted together for a moment.

Rogue leaned her arms over the countertop, a small smile quirking from her lips. "But I wasn't."

Ororo opened her mouth to ask what she had meant when suddenly, Logan appeared from around the corner of the kitchen, coming in from the rec room. He paused when he caught sight of the two women, who broke apart quickly when they turned at his entrance. Logan had a hand at the back of his head, scratching roughly. He stood still in the threshold, looking between the two. "Heh." He dropped his hand back to his side. "I don' wanna know."

Logan strode across the kitchen to the fridge, yanking the door open. He rummaged through the shelves for a few seconds before he pulled back angrily and turned to the two women at the island. "Where's my beer?"

Rogue just stared at him, but Ororo stood stoically behind the counter, her arms crossing over her chest. "I discarded your beer, Logan."

Logan slammed the fridge door, making Rogue jump slightly. "What?" he growled.

"I said 'I discarded your beer, Logan.'" Ororo raised a brow.

"I heard ya the first time, Storm. Why the _fuck_ did you toss it?" Logan glared at Ororo.

Rogue pulled her hands into the air. "Logan, come on, you don't need to -"  
"Stay out of this, Marie," Logan snapped.

Rogue clamped her mouth shut.

Ororo narrowed her eyes. "Do not speak to her like that, Logan, she was merely trying-"

Logan was across the kitchen in two strides, suddenly up against Ororo. "I don' give a shit. And I ain't taken that fucking position yet, Storm, so ya got no right throwing out my shit."

Ororo huffed angrily at his interruption. "It has nothing to do with your acceptance of the faculty position and everything to do with your negative influence on the students. I will not have you carrying on in the same fashion here in the mansion."

"An' I'm suppose ta give a flying shit?" Logan snarled at her. "Fuck this. I'm fucking sick of you shoving your rules around and expectin' me ta follow ya like some goddamn mindless dog."

Ororo ground her teeth, her breath heaving. She raised her arm, a finger pointing toward the door. "Then get out," she bit out.  
Logan narrowed his eyes at her, and she could feel the hot air fuming from his nostrils on her cheeks.

"Fine. You got it. I've wasted enough fucking time here." Logan pulled back a step, stilling glaring at her. "I've wasted enough time with you."

Rogue glanced wide-eyed between the two, watching Logan curling his fists, and the slight twitch of Ororo's eyebrows at his words.

Logan turned before either of them could say something and he was out the threshold in two seconds. Rogue jumped from her seat on the stool without thinking and ran after him, leaving Ororo shaking with rage in the kitchen.

Logan was halfway up the stair to the bedroom floor when Rogue caught up to him. "Hey, Logan, wait!"

He kept stalking up the stairs. She called louder. "Logan! Stop, would you?"

Logan halted abruptly and Rogue almost ran into his back. She steadied herself, raising a hand to her chest.

Logan stared down at her silently, expectantly.

Rogue raised her eyes to him, reigning in her breath. She straightened up, standing a couple steps below him. "You're a complete asshole sometimes, you know?"

Logan's eyes narrowed so quick she almost missed it.

She pulled in a shaky breath. "You know that, don't you?"

Logan ground his teeth slowly, biting his tongue. Then he was stalking up the stairs again.

Rogue braced a hand along the rail, calling out to him louder from her position on the stairwell. "You know that, don't you?"

She could hear the slam of his door from where she stood.


	8. Pushing

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Okay, see I told you I would not abandon Secret Burdens. Anyway, hopefully I will be updating a lot more often. I do apologize for the wait. There were some personal and hospital issues. Yeah. Uber fun. However, I really wanted to get this chapter out because it's a pivital point for both characters. Thank you for anyone still reading this. I totally would not blame you if you've already left. Sorry. But for the rest of you, enjoy.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Eight: Pushing

_"The most jarring realizations are those about yourself."_

Rogue stepped slowly from the stairwell to the floor of the foyer. She sighed heavily before turning to enter back into the kitchen. She stood in the threshold and found Ororo standing behind the island counter as she had when Rogue left her to run after Logan.

Ororo was standing eerily still, her eyes shut. Rogue could see the light static going through her hair.

Rogue stepped forward hesitantly. "Ms. Munroe?"

Ororo opened her eyes to look at Rogue, showing the light gleam of wetness against her whitening eyes. "Yes, Marie?" she croaked.

Rogue swallowed heavily. "He's leaving for good. I know that look of his."

Ororo cocked her head. "And how do you see that as my concern?"

Rogue stepped closer so that she was just in front of Ororo, as she searched her eyes. "Storm, he will only stay if you ask him to."

Ororo furrowed her brows, shaking her head slightly. "Marie, you are gravely mistaken if you think that anything I have to say will be of any importance to him." She drew in a deep, rough breath, bracing her hand against her chest. "And you are also mistaken if you believe that I desire him to stay."

She closed her eyes again, and Rogue could make out the dampness creeping out of the corners of her eyes.

Rogue steadied herself, grasping for Ororo's arm. She stared heavily at her when she raised her eyes to the former mutant. "Maybe not for the reasons I'm thinking of, but I know you have reasons to need him here." Rogue eyed her steadily, inclining her head with meaning. "And I know you don't want something else you'll end up regretting."

Ororo glanced between Rogue and the staircase just before the front door, her arms held stiffly to her sides. She returned her eyes to Rogue, who gently lowered her arm from gripping Ororo. Ororo took in one last deep breath as she hardened her features and turned to the staircase.

Rogue sighed as she watched Ororo take the stairs up to Logan's room, all the while hoping there wouldn't be blood to clean up afterwards.

* * *

Logan tossed the few t-shirts in his bureau to the bed behind him. He raked his arm across the dresser, tumbling all the contents into the bag he held at the edge. His breathing was coming in heavier bursts and he could feel the itch of the adamantium beneath his skin. Logan grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor and the t-shirts he had thrown to the bed, shoving them into his open pack. He was about to yank the bag over his shoulder when he heard the light footsteps coming up the stairs. He had an instant to recognize the person's scent before they had reached his room and unceremoniously slammed his door open.

Ororo stood in his doorway, her shoulders pulled back and electricity sparkling around her fingertips.

Logan straightened up sharply, his lips pulled back in a snarl. "What _the fuck_ do you - "

"This time," Ororo bellowed, "you will shut up and listen!" She squeezed her palms into fists.

Logan was so taken aback by her tone that he didn't speak initially. But it was only a moment, before his eyes narrowed sharply and he advanced dangerously toward her. "Get _out_," he ground out lowly.

Ororo slammed the door behind her, also advancing toward him, her finger raised in his direction. "You want to know honesty, Logan? You want to know something no one else does?" she asked shrilly.

They met in the middle of his room with Ororo shoving her finger in his face. "How about this then?"

Logan grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, forcing her back. "I said get out." His eyes were wild as they stared her down.

Ororo flailed in his grip, trying to pull herself free, but Logan had a grip on her like he'd never had before. If it was any other time she might have actually felt an inkling of fear. But she was too far past fear. Ororo was so far from even the vicinity of fear she didn't think she even remembered what that felt like with him.

"Get your hands _off_ me!" she yelled. She grasped at his arms, digging her nails into his skin just before she shot a wave of electricity threw her hands and into Logan.

Logan roared in pain, tearing his hands from Ororo's shoulders and rearing back. He gripped at his arm, then flashed his eyes toward her, unconsciously crouching in tension, ready to leap toward her again.

Ororo was caught by the sight and sucked in a breath, trying to steady herself. But then she remembered her anger again in a flood of rage. Her eyes blanked white faster than Logan had ever seen and her hair whipped around her face threateningly.

"How about this for honesty, Logan?' she bit out. "I actually let you hurt me."

Logan blinked, his nostrils flaring. "What the hell are you talkin' about, Storm?" he roared.

Ororo steadied her rising chest. "I stupidly thought that you were worth getting to know, that you were worth any form of human decency! I actually thought that your pain from Jean's death was real and that there was something unspoken that connected us, if only in the smallest of ways." She could feel her voice breaking with the threat of tears.

Logan ground his teeth together. "You don't know the first thing about what I felt for Jean."

Storm swallowed thickly, trying to control her voice. "Yes, apparently it was more self-absorbed than I previously thought," she spat.

Logan stepped toward her, leaning over her threateningly. "Shut up, Storm. You don't know _anything_!" he yelled.

Ororo stuck her chin out defiantly. "Oh, but I do. I know that you used your feelings for her as a way to cut off everyone else. You drove away Marie. You drove away Charles, as much as he tried to reach out to you. And for what? For a woman who never loved you back!"

"You don't know that!" Logan shouted to her, raising a finger to her face. "You have no idea what Jean was feeling either! You never bothered to even ask. You never cared about her enough to." Logan tore away from Storm to pace back toward the bed.

"_What?_" Ororo screeched. "How dare you! I have always cared for Jean. She was the closest thing I will ever have for a sister. I will never know a person like her again, but I cannot get her back by dwelling on her dead memory."

"Well, it ain't dead to me!" Logan yelled as he whirled around to face Storm again. "Don't you get it, Storm? She's dead because of me! Chuck is dead because of _me_! As long as that guilt lives they will always haunt me."

Ororo stepped toward him, her brow furrowed with frustration. "And you think you are the only one haunted? Logan, they were my family." Ororo blinked back hot tears, fiercely trying not to break in front of Logan. God, just not in front of him. "My _family_!" she cried, her hand clutching at her chest. She swiped angrily at the tears threatening to overflow. "They were all I had in the world Logan. All I had. And in one swift instant, gone." She ground her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut. "Charles was the only father I had ever known. And Jean...I mean, God...and Scott..." Ororo gripped even harder at her heart, feeling its harsh pounding against her ribs. Ororo opened her eyes to glare at Logan.

All he could do was stare at her while the salt from her tears flooded his nostrils.

"Do you really not know?" she asked, her voice finally cracking. "Can you really not know that I also lost someone I loved?"

Her eyes bore into his as their heavy breathing filled the room. "I also loved. Deeply. And unregrettably."

Logan's feet were heavy upon the floor, grounding him as immovable as he searched Ororo's eyes. "I know," he finally answered. "I know. I mean...I tried to know." Logan took a step closer toward her. "That's why I wanted this fucking trust thing. I had to know." Logan's voice was still heavy, pierced by his labored breathes.

Ororo stared at him, shaking her head unbelievingly. "Can you really be that selfish?"

Logan stopped in his advance, anger flashing back across his features. "What?"

Ororo looked at him incredulously. "Must you completely dissect another person's past and pain in order to ease your own? Do you not realize what you are doing to me?"

Logan furrowed his brows at Ororo's questions. "What do you...?"

Ororo closed her eyes painfully, tears clinging to her lashes and Logan was so struck by the sight that he forgot to take a breath for a moment. "I wanted to believe you when you asked for trust, Logan. I did. But I cannot continue to do this to myself." She pulled the hand from her chest as she opened her eyes again. "I kept this part of me in the far recesses of my heart for so long that I do not think I can bear it again." Ororo drew in a deep breath. "I am sorry, Logan. But I do not think that I can keep my end of the deal. There are still some things too painful to say. Even to myself."

"Then you're a coward, Storm." Logan stood deadly still.

Ororo glanced at him blankly, her eyes ebbing white. "I do not deny it, Logan. But then, so are you."

Logan set his jaw tighter, his nostrils flaring.

Ororo eyed him suspiciously. "There are things even you do not speak of, Logan."

Logan reigned in his anger as he opened his mouth to speak. "Then I guess we ain't ever goin' to trust each other."

Ororo swallowed, her throat dry with the force of tears and shouts. "Something else is stopping you than just the fact that Jean did not love you."

Logan leaned toward Ororo. "Don't push it, Storm."

She stepped closer toward him, easing herself toward the wall of the room he had planted himself at. "Or the fact that it wasn't even Jean in the end."

Logan flashed his canines at her, growling, even as she stepped closer still. "I'm warnin' you."

Storm pressed on. "Or the fact that she killed Charles."

Logan spun on her, snarling inches from her face. "Storm, don't you dare - "

"Or that you killed her."

Suddenly, Ororo felt the rush of wind as Logan's fist flew past her cheek and into the wall behind her, his roar of anger accompanying the terrible crunch of plaster beside her ear. Ororo stared wide-eyed at Logan as he panted with rage, his eyes frenzied upon her own. He was breathing deeply, his chest rising in tired pants as he surrounded Ororo's small frame against the wall. His voice came out in a low, threatening growl. "Don't," he started, "don't..." Logan blinked fiercely, his lids already dampening.

"That...," Ororo found her voice was breaking, but she couldn't stop herself. "That your love was useless... to save her."

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, his fist digging deeper into the wall.

Ororo's lip started trembling, and not, she found, because she was afraid of him. Her face fell, and she found the tears starting afresh. Her hand raised instinctively, touching her shaking fingertips to his rough cheek. Logan started at first, his eyes snapping open, before he felt the gentle trembling of her fingertips.

Ororo stared up at him silently, wishing at that moment that she had never pushed him. And not for herself. But for him. Because Ororo knows that look. That self-hatred. She knows what it feels like to carry that kind of weight around. And she knows firsthand how destructive one's own desires could be. She never wanted to remember that feeling. That helplessness. That vulnerability. How the hate doesn't even help anymore.

It was all she felt nowadays.

And she finally felt wrong to drag Logan into that, to make him feel that same kind of defenselessness. Because isn't that exactly what she was fighting so desperately against? Neither of them wanted to peel back their skins and show each other their gruesome little insides. And Ororo thought she was so screwed up Logan wouldn't even know what he was looking at. So self-righteous. So needlessly and stupidly self-righteous. Who wants to bare that kind of ugliness anyway?

She was beginning to realize that Logan wasn't the one doing the pushing.

"It's just..." Logan swallowed thickly, staring into Ororo's white eyes, a breath from his own.

Ororo's hand moved farther up his cheek, cupping his skin with her palm, her eyes never leaving his. She just couldn't stop shaking.

Logan let out a breath, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch.

"Logan," Ororo breathed, so soft she thought he hadn't heard it.

His brows knitted together at the sound of his name leaving her lips. He looked down, unable to look at her any longer. "I mean...it's so - everything's just...God. So fucked up. I'm just so completely, and utterly, and irredeemably, fucked up."

Ororo could see the shudder in his shoulders, the ripple of muscles as he braced himself against the wall. And suddenly, Ororo was struck with the idea that this man was not nearly the person she thought him to be. This was the first time that Ororo admitted to herself that she was scared of how much of a stranger he was.

She didn't want that.

Ororo knew that this went further than just understanding. This was more than just sharing pain at common lost loved ones. Because there was nothing common about it. And if they finally got to the point where they could express their loss unrestrained, then theirs would always be a relationship based solely on that common empathy. That wasn't something Ororo wanted from Logan.

She knew she could never truly understand him. His reasons, his actions, his secrets. If she did, then the importance of trust would be lost on her. Because the point of trust was in leaps of faith. Would it mean the same if you jumped where you knew there was a landing?

Ororo found that she needed that breathlessness. That something to remind her that she was still here and still present. Logan did that. Logan jarred her into movement.

Ororo realized that it had been so long since she allowed herself to indulge in her own emotions. There were too many students dependent on her, too many teachers looking to her for guidance, too many X-Men relying on her leadership. Ororo forgot herself in the need.

Logan threw it back.

"I just want...," Logan's voice was rough in his throat, the words catching themselves along his tongue, "I just want to be over this."

Ororo closed her eyes, breathing in deep as her eyes swirled slowly back from white to blue.

This was it. This was it, Ororo.

She touched her hands once more to his face, lifting his head until he was forced to lock eyes with her. She felt the rugged skin of his cheeks beneath her quivering fingertips. His eyes were dark against her own.

This was it. No regrets.

"Then what are you waiting for?" She leaned in.


	9. Scent Memory

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Yay, a chapter where they don't want to tear each other's heads off. I think they may finally be getting somewhere...

Secret Burdens

Chapter Nine: Scent Memory

_"It was becoming more than they knew. An intrinsic need."_

African Acacia trees. That's what Logan imagined. A lone, tall acacia tree with its branches threading into the skyline. He imagined the expanse of desert behind it. There were no other trees dotting the horizon. The steady trunk hooked its roots into the ground and spread its branches high, offering up tender white blossoms to the blue. The acacia harbors inside it the moisture from the last rainstorm to pass over the empty savannah months ago, savoring and strengthening to last the drought until the clouds roll back over the mountains. It is the only water source for miles, but this acacia knows the heat and the dryness. This acacia knows how to endure.

Logan blinked, and realized he was staring down into Ororo's face. Her eyes were hesitant upon his, her fingers framing his cheeks. She was trembling.

There was a still moment between them before Logan pulled in a breath, and he thinks of acacias once more. Then he recognized it, that scent. It was coming from her.

She smelled like the oasis in a desert. The only water for miles.

His fist still embedded in the wall, Logan leaned against that arm for support. He watched as Ororo took in deep, heavy breathes and he wondered if she could smell the acacias too. Her shaking fingers tugged lightly at his skin and he realized she was slowly pulling him toward her. His eyes roved hers and he licked his lips unconsciously. Logan found his body leaning into her pull as he raised his other hand to grip her wrist. Before he knew it, he could feel her breath fanning his lips, her pulse throbbing painfully against his fingers.

The scent of acacias was drowning him.

Suddenly, a light, steady pounding found its way to Logan's ears and he recognized the noise just as Ororo's eyelids fluttered closed. He released her wrist, pulling away swiftly so that he was a full three feet apart from her. Bits of plaster fell from the impact of the wall as his fist left the hole and his sudden absence had Ororo snapping her eyes open to him. She had a moment to blink furiously in confusion at him before she heard the loudening tread of footfalls. Simultaneously, their heads snapped to the door in time to see Peter throwing it open. He was in full steel casing, his broad shoulders spanning the width of the doorframe as he burst in.

All three of them looked at each other in sharp bewilderment when Kitty's legs dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Her body followed through, dropping her to the floor as she hollered "Everyone okay?"

Ororo glanced at Kitty, narrowing her eyes in confusion. She was still trying to reign in her breathing. "What?" she asked, as she brought her hand on up to her chest in an effort to calm herself.

Seeing only Logan and Ororo occupying the room, Peter's armored plating shimmered as it rescinded, leaving behind pale flesh and a cotton t-shirt. "We heard a loud thud and a crunching sound when we were in the rec room."

"Yeah," Kitty agreed. "We thought we heard Wolvie roaring and came running."

Logan shot a look at Kitty for her nickname for him but remained silent.

Peter stepped forward slowly, eyeing the gaping hole in the wall just past Ororo's shoulder. It was dangerously close to her head, he thought. "Are either of you hurt?"

Ororo flickered her gaze to Logan momentarily to find him staring at Peter, his jaw set tightly. She glanced back at Peter and saw that he had rested his gaze on Logan as well. She swallowed thickly, fingering the edge of her blouse collar. "No, no. We are fine, Peter. Thank you."

Kitty, now sufficiently satisfied that no harm was done, crossed her arms and looked between the two. "What happened then?"

Ororo cleared her throat and stepped toward the young girl. "Kitty, it was nothing. A...disagreement."

When Kitty eyed her suspiciously, she continued. "However, we have solved it," she said, licking her lips. She glanced back at Logan in hopes of his reassurance toward the girl, but he was looking resolutely away from all of them. "Honestly, Kitty," she looked back toward the girl, "Logan and I are fine. I promise."

"Storm?"

At Peter's low tone, Ororo turned to him. Though he continued staring at Logan, she knew his question was directed to her. "Are you sure you are unharmed?"

Logan took the moment to look back at Peter, returning his guarded stare. "The woman's fine, Petey. Didn't ya hear her?" he growled lowly.

There was an uneasy silence as Kitty and Peter eyed their fellow X-man nervously.

Wanting to pierce the stifled air in the room, Ororo placed a hand on Kitty's slender shoulders, urging her toward Peter and the door as she followed. "Come. I have been neglecting dinner for you all. Marie is probably alone in the kitchen wondering where we all are."

The two young students didn't question her commands to move, but turned hesitantly into the open hallway themselves.

Ororo turned back to Logan as she was about to leave the room and join Kitty and Peter as they waited for her in the hallway. She gulped thickly, offering "I am sorry to have disturbed you, Logan," before she moved past the threshold.

But before she could grab the doorknob to close the door on her way out, Logan had taken the few steps toward her and grabbed her wrist. She froze in her movement and lifted her eyes to his. His stare was dark and heavy on her, his thumb grazing her pulse as it thrummed.

He suddenly wanted to feel her trembling once more, beneath his touch.

"We ain't done yet," he said lowly, but there was something in his tone that made Ororo think he said it more as a request than a command. He didn't blink as he looked at her.

Her only response was a mute nod as she slipped from his grasp, reaching for the door and closing it behind her.

* * *

It was nightfall before Rogue found Logan outside the back of the mansion, nursing a beer while he lounged against the back steps. She wandered over to him silently, until she was standing just beside him above the steps. Turning his head in her direction, Logan smirked lightly before patting the space next to him and scooting over a few inches. Rogue smiled warmly and took the opportunity to sit down next to him. She brought her feet up to the step just below her so that she could rest her arms crossed upon her knees. Still staring out over the dark lawn of the estate, Logan took another swig of the beer in his hand. It was then that Rogue narrowed her eyes at it, pulling a finger out to point accusingly as she drawled, "Didn't Ms. Munroe get rid of those?"

Logan paused mid sip, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He lowered the beer, and threw her an incredulous look.

She sighed, dropping her finger. "What am I talking about? You'd find a way."

She saw him smile, his canines glinting in the low glow from the porch lights. Rogue dropped her arms back to her knees and joined him in looking out over the dark trees and expanse of grass stretching before them. There was a silence between them for a while, save for the soft sloshing of liquid each time Logan tipped his beer back for a sip. Moths buzzed around the low porch lights just behind them and the cool air was beginning to feel sharp across the back of Rogue's neck. She pulled her knees in tighter.

"You're still here." She didn't look at him as she put that one out there.

Logan mulled his answer over a minute before he responded, "Unfinished business."

"Ah." Rogue nodded. "With Ms. Munroe?"

Logan was silent.

"I think she wanted you to stay."

"Why do ya still call her that?" Logan asked, turning to eye Rogue.

She blinked her confusion.

"Storm," he continued, motioning with the beer in his hand. "Why do ya still call her 'Ms. Munroe'?"

Pursing her lips a bit, she thought about it before answering. "I suppose...because I'm no longer an X-man. I can't call her 'Storm' like we were teammates. She's still my teacher you know?" she asked, nudging Logan with her knees. "World History 2001. Awful boring if you ask me."

Logan smirked. "Yeah, I'll bet. She's too tight-up for teaching."

Rogue nodded in agreement before continuing. "Yeah, but now, it feels natural to call her Ms. Munroe again. Just like it was natural to call her Storm when we were training. I mean," she shrugged noncommittally, "I guess a name makes a difference with whose callin' it."

"Yeah." Logan thought back to when he found Ororo outside in the early morning a couple weeks ago. The first time he had called her by her true name. He had pressed her then, pressed her far enough that he began questioning his motives. He was beginning to discover bits and pieces of her, bits and pieces of the past he had started out trying to uncover. Now it didn't seem so important. Now that he had said her name, a name he never truly knew or understood, a name that fell from his lips now with an ease he was beginning to question, it became an intrinsic need that made him wary.

Ororo.

He still didn't know her in the way he yearned to, still only saw the parts she allowed him to see. But he had also played the game, shown his cards, risked the loss. That was the only way this game would progress. The more he gave up, the more he got. And he was beginning to figure out the wonders of what Ororo could give.

"She still calls me 'Marie'." Logan was brought out of his thoughts when Rogue went on. "I think the last time she called me 'Rogue' was when she called me into her office just after I took the cure."

Logan raised an eyebrow at her. "Gettin' called into the principal's office? I think I'm rubbing off on ya, kiddo."

She sighed in exasperation, but she was smiling. "No, you idiot." Rogue sniffed, rubbing her cold forearms. "She wanted to talk to me, about the cure."

Lowering his smirk, Logan motioned for her to continue.

"Well," she began, "it was in the midst of that craziness with Professor Xavier and Ms. Grey and well..." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't make any movements that suggested he was uncomfortable about the topic. She wondered about that. Lately, Logan had been losing that gleam in his eye whenever anyone even mentioned Jean's name. "I just figured with everything you were dealing with you didn't need me dropping this on you either."

"I would've listened, kid, you know that." He bore his gaze into hers.

She swallowed, nodding. "I know, Logan. But I'm a big girl, you know? I can take care of myself."

He snorted, before tossing back the last of his beer.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Rogue huffed. "Don't snort at me, Wolverine. I know your secrets," she finished lowly, smiling playfully.

She paused when she saw Logan's shoulders stiffen, remembering that night he ran her through, and his fragmented memories stayed with her. Realizing what she said, Rogue's smile fell. "Sorry. I didn't mean...that-"

"Don't matter, darlin'," he interrupted, forcing a small quirk of his lip.

She smiled gratefully, then looked back out to the lawn. "Well, I thought I could always talk to you later. I guess now is later." She chuckled. "Don't worry though. Ms. Munroe helped. More than you could imagine."

Now his curiosity was piqued. "What'd she say?" He set the empty bottle down on the step before him.

"I thought she'd question me about taking the cure. But all she said was that if I had reasons good enough for me, then they would be good enough for her. She said that mutants' greatest mistake was in defining themselves as other than human. We were always humans first, and we would all die humans. She said a little gene mutation, one way or the other, didn't define my humanity. And she wanted to make sure I let no one else define it for me either."

Logan stared silently out at the lawn, rolling his fingers lazily around the rim of the empty beer bottle. Rogue cocked her head to look at him. The porch lights behind them didn't fully reach the steps they sat on, leaving Logan's face in slants of shadow that reminded her of the many darknesses she didn't know about him. He opened his mouth hesitantly, and she waited expectantly for him to speak.

"I wonder if she feels that way 'bout all o'us."

Rogue understood that there were things about Logan she'd never be privy to, memories he would never share with her. But she could still pick out that hopeful gleam in his voice every now and then.

She leaned her head against his thick arm, closing her eyes. "I know she does, Logan. That's why she can continue the Professor's dream." She sensed the tension in his muscles beneath her cheek. Taking a breath she added, "I know she sees it in you, too."

Feeling his arm lift beneath her, Rogue raised her head to see Logan push himself off the step and stand next to her. She blinked up at him, not sure whether she was waiting for a response or a farewell.

He raised the empty bottle in his hand. "Then cheers to your humanity. Thanks for the talk, kiddo."

Before Rogue could open her mouth to respond he had turned and taken the few steps up to the back door of the mansion, entering the loud bustle of students enjoying the rec room on a Friday night. She sat outside only a handful of minutes more before entering also, in search of Bobby.

* * *

The med-lab door slid open as Ororo entered, carrying a small pile of papers organized in manila folders. She stepped over to the computer station on the other side of the observation tables, the tapping of her heels the only sound in the empty room. It felt so cold in here when Hank was away. She hated coming into the med-lab when he was absent. It made it so much harder for her not to think of Jean each time she came down. In a way, Ororo tried to avoid the med-lab if possible, if only because she felt intrusive to what was Logan's sanctuary, and not hers. Hers was elsewhere. Somewhere between her greenhouse and Scott's old room.

But as she took a seat in front of the lab computer and placed the files neatly next to the keyboard, ready to start entering student medical data, she noticed the absence of a scent she was becoming familiar with. She could usually place the scent and smoke of a cigar lingering around the med-lab, as much as she often told Logan to leave his cigars outside. This time, however, she could barely detect it. It had to be a few weeks since he was done here. The thought made Ororo's breath quicken. She wondered at the feeling of displacement she felt when she couldn't detect his presence.

Slowly, she pulled the sleeve of her green silk blouse from her wrist and brushed her fingertips across the skin where Logan had held her earlier that day. She wondered if he could feel her tremors then. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she recalled his words as they parted.

_"We ain't done yet."_

Goddess help her, she hoped they weren't.


	10. Brick by Brick

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: So after I uploaded the last chapter I realized that the first nine chapters together had an exact word count of 25000. Kind of funky. Anyway, here you go. Logan and Ororo seem to be moving in a new direction...

Secret Burdens

Chapter Ten: Brick By Brick

_"Brick by brick are bridges made."_

"Jesus, did you see the size of that hole Wolvie punched?" Kitty whistled, spreading her hands about two feet wider than necessary. She was lounging on one of the rec room armchairs, her legs dangling over one plush arm as she rested her back against the other.

Bobby raised one eyebrow as he watched her motioning of the hole. "Even Wolverine doesn't have a fist that huge, Kitty."

Kitty bounced up in her seat, exclaiming, "No, really, it was _this hu_-"

"Katya," Peter intoned from his seat across from her.

She blinked at him a moment, before lowering her arms and sighing. "Okay, so it wasn't _that_ big. But it was deep," she pointed out as she raised a finger at Peter, expecting his agreement. "And dangerously close to where Storm's head seemed to be."

Peter clenched his jaw, silently wondering about that himself. He knew Storm had riled up Logan before and that lately their usually distant and civil conversations had grown explosive. However, he had thought that even Logan was above such destruction, especially after his time at the mansion.

Rogue was sitting curled into Bobby's side on the couch between Kitty and Peter when she leaned forward to question Kitty, "Really? He punched the wall behind her?"

Kitty glanced at Rogue and nodded mutely.

Resting back against Bobby, Rogue looked up at him. "I didn't know that."

He shrugged in response, wrapping his arm back around her frame. "I don't know what's up with those two. It's like lately, when they're in the same room, the air seems so volatile between them. You could just slice that tension. _Shink_," he noised, making a cutting motion with his hand.

Kitty worried at her bottom lip. "You don't think it has anything to do with Alcatraz, do you? I mean, Storm hasn't mentioned anything about anymore government interference. And Hank hasn't reported any stirring up on the Hill."

"No," Rogue mumbled, shaking her head as she stared down the coffee table in front of them. "I think it's more...personal."

Kitty eyed Rogue as she fingered the edge of her sweater nervously, but her attention was caught by Peter's grumbling.

"That's what I don't like," he sighed.

Bobby jerked his head in Peter's direction. "What do you mean, Petey?"

Arms resting heavily atop the sides of his armchair, Peter stared at each one of them individually. "Have you seen the way Storm has been the last few weeks? She's unfocused, restless, almost frenzied at times. I know she carries the duties of headmaster as well but winter break is almost here and that usually means downtime for her."

Kitty perked up suddenly, waggling her eyebrows as she asked, "You think Wolverine's got something to do with her panties being in a twist?"

Bobby scrunched up his face in distaste. "Please, Kitty, don't ever mention Wolverine and Storm's panties in the same context ever again."

Huffing and crossing her arms, Kitty leaned back against the arm of her seat. "Alright, alright. I'm just saying, you know. He _is_ a known womanizer after all."

"Yeah," Peter interjected angrily, "who spent the last year or so chasing after Ms. Grey. He's in no position to be on another hunt."

"God, it's not like he preys on women," Rogue shot in Logan's defense. "And I don't think that's what's going on with them now."

Kitty and Peter had silenced at Rogue's tone.

"He's not like that" she said lowly, hugging her arms tighter to herself.

Glancing between Rogue and Peter as he glared at the innocent coffee table, Kitty blew a puff of air from her lips and settled deeper into her armchair. "Well, as long as I'm not woken up by fists blasting through walls every time they have a tiff, then I don't care what goes on with them."

"But we should care," Peter interjected, gripping his chair. "I've seen what Wolverine can do and maybe he's not exactly the best influence on Storm right now, you know, still so soon after the funeral. She's still in grieving."

"And Logan's not?" Rogue demanded.

"It's not that," Bobby answered as he tried to calm Rogue beside him. "I think Pete's just...more familiar with Storm."

"And more trusting," Peter added.

Rogue narrowed her eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Kitty jumped in. "Look, Rogue, believe me when I say that I'd trust Wolvie with my life. But I think where Pete's coming from needs to be understood too."

Rogue looked at her skeptically but kept quiet, waiting for Kitty to continue.

"It's like..." Kitty mused, pushing herself up straighter in the armchair, "It's because we trained with her, ate with her, lived with her. Storm wasn't only our teacher but our leader in the battlefield and a mentor as well." She glanced at Peter in hopes that he could help her word this better.

He took the cue and brought his hands together as he leaned forward in his seat. "Rogue, it's simply knowing that Storm has always felt responsible for us, no matter how independent we may feel. She has always acted with our well-being as the first and foremost of her priorities. So please forgive us if we in turn feel protective of her comfort and welfare." Peter did not have that hard star to his gaze anymore, simply a pleading for understanding.

Rogue pursed her lips but leaned back in resignation. "I know...I get it." She sighed, rubbing her forearms. "I just know that Logan is hurting too. So maybe we should just let things be between them. They've been through more than we will probably see in our lifetimes. And I don't think they have anyone else but each other to understand that." Rogue looked between Kitty and Peter, then smiled softly at Bobby as she felt him gently rubbing her arm.

"I think Rogue's right," Bobby agreed. "They take care of their own. That means each other too."

Looking back to Peter, Rogue offered a small smile. "Look, I know you're worried about Ms. Munroe. Believe me, I don't like seeing her like this either. But maybe Logan is the only thing that's going to get through to her right now."

Peter scoffed, but he was smirking. "Yeah, figures. Of all people."

Kitty shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess Wolvie's got more humanity than we give him credit for sometimes, claws and all."

"We are each humans first, mutants second," Rogue asserted. She cocked her shoulder as she grinned, "Ms. Munroe told me that."

Bobby pulled her closer to him. "Words to live by."

* * *

Ororo thought Logan would be long gone by now. But it has been three days since their last encounter, which ended in Ororo calling in a carpentry and drywall repair company. She has since held onto the bill until she feels it's safe to slip under Logan's door.

Of course, she figured she wouldn't get that chance, considering his penchant for escapes. It was why she hadn't approached him yet. Let him have his space. Let him have his time. She would wait for his move first. Only now was Ororo beginning to realize that he had already played his moves. In this game, it was her turn.

When she really thought about it, it wasn't Logan who was pushing her into a corner. She was just as responsible for forcing him into some definable and rational box. It was easy to understand him that way. Place some labels across the top, mark it as fragile and always, _always_, handle with care.

She knew better than most that some people can't be kept that way. Especially Logan. At this point she began feeling ashamed of trying to rationally keep him at bay. And it wasn't for him. It was for her. A stupid, selfish belief that she deserved more than the cards she ended up with. Some days she thought the Professor got off easy.

Then she looks at Logan and realizes that The Dream has permeated farther than she originally thought, or even liked to admit. But there wasn't enough room at the mansion for both Logan and her pride. One of them would have to consider a white flag of truce.

That was why she found herself seeking him out this time. She recognized this match. The scoreboard's been empty for too long. It was her play.

After she finished grading the last of the student midterms for her Language and Composition class, she decided to take a trip to the south garage. Last she had seen through her classroom window, Logan had taken the motorcycle out. He had it parked just outside the open garage door, on the paved driveway that ran all the way to the gate. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was trying to do with the tool case he had spread out next to it.

She took the stairs down from her second floor classroom and passed through the kitchen to reach the side garage door. Crouched on the pavement next to the bike, Logan perked his ears up at the sound of the door opening behind him. He listened to Ororo's steps around the other cars of the garage until they came to a stop just inside the threshold of the open garage. She hadn't spoken yet, but he could hear her breathing a few feet behind him. Giving no indication that he had heard her but a grunt, he continued his work on the bike.

Ororo opened her mouth for a second, then closed it. She glanced out across the lawn and watched as the harshening wind whipped around the trees of the estate. Noticing the students flooding the grounds in their winter coats and scarves, she turned back to Logan and realized he only carried on him a worn grey button-down. She furrowed her brows momentarily, before speaking, "It will most probably snow tonight."

"If ya say so," he responded, back turned still.

Ororo pursed her lips at his reply, but she continued. "It is currently 29 degrees outside, Logan."

"Thank you, Madame Forecaster," he drawled.

Crossing her arms, she resisted the urge to tap her foot at him. "Are you not cold?"

She watched his shoulders shrug as he grunted, "Eh. Comes with the territory."

Huffing in annoyance, she dropped her arms and exclaimed, "Will you look at me, Logan?"

He was silent for a moment, but slowly turned his head back to glance at her. Taking in her apparel he furrowed his brows at her. She was wearing a long-sleeved, red chiffon blouse and deep brown trousers, her hair in a long braid down her back. "And you ain't freezin' in that flimsy shit?"

Ororo glanced down at her thin blouse and then back to Logan, smiling softly. "I am the same as you. It comes with the territory."

Logan, however, did not like that explanation as he frowned and returned to his tinkering. Ororo sighed and began walking toward him. Reaching the space just next to him, she squatted on the pavement so that she was at eye-level with him, resting her arms across her knees. "Logan, I am attempting to speak with you. The smallest courtesy you can afford is your attention."

"I can hear ya fine, darlin'," he said as he reached behind him for a small cap of some sort.

Ororo watched as he fitted it to an opening in the bike and used a wrench to tighten it. She didn't really expect much from him when she came out here in the first place, but for some reason she couldn't name, it was greatly unnerving to have Logan ignoring her. Though she had to admit, the cold shoulder was the kindest of treatments she could have expected from him. So instead of forcing his attention once more she simply sighed and looked out across the lawn again.

"I understand that the mansion has not been the most welcoming place for you. And I understand that I am partly to blame for that," she began, turning back to face him. "I do not think that there is anyone else here who can claim such a loss as you have. I have been selfish. I am sorry, Logan. I never meant to -"

"Wait - what?" he interrupted, finally turning to look at her with a piercing glare. His brows were knit together in confusion and his hands had stopped moving around the bike's engine. "What the hell are you apologizing for, Storm?"

Ororo blinked at him for several lost seconds.

"I'm the one who-" he started angrily, catching himself. He looked down at the floor, unable to keep her gaze. "I'm the one who almost planted a fist on ya." His fists tightened, clenching in on themselves. Finally, he looked back up to her. "You have nothing to be sorry 'bout, Ororo."

She was silent as he stared at her, and it was the first time she could place shame on his features. Some time ago, she thinks she might have enjoyed that. Felt it was deserved in some sense. But not now. Now she never wanted to see him staring at her like that, waiting for the blow he felt he deserved. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

In fact, she was surprised by the urge to reach out and cradle that face with her fingers.

But she didn't. Instead, she swallowed thickly and shook her head. "No...I know you would not..."

"But I would," he said lowly.

Ororo's eyes widened at the dark look in his.

"That's just it," he ground out. "I really wanted to hurt you at the end there." His chest felt heavy with the weight of that confession and he pulled in a deep breath to continue. "I...would have hurt you."

"But you did not," she exclaimed, quicker than she meant. She took a moment to steady her thoughts before continuing. "You did not hurt me." Her fingers itched to touch his then. Timidly, she reached for them, her eyes still locked to his.

The hairs on his neck prickled at the touch of her fingertips to the back of his hand. He felt the smooth skin of her palm resting against his hand and he looked away from her blue gaze. This time, he didn't think it was shame. "But I have before. And you and I both know I didn't regret it then."

Ororo gulped but kept her touch steady.

"I'd never laid hands on Jeannie," he bit out shakily.

"I know," she answered softly.

He shook his head. "I get it. I know. I'm the angry animal here, licking his wounds. I know there's a huge fucking "Do Not Approach" sign on my forehead. The kids won't come near me anymore. 'Cept Marie that is. And she's got more reason than most to stay away, after running her through and all," he chuckled darkly.

Ororo wanted to scream at him, shake him, convince him somehow that he deserved companionship just as much as the rest of them. But the words were lodged heavy in her throat and she didn't know how to force them out. So she continued staring.

"I've done some terrible shit. Shit you'd go white at hearing 'bout. But even I don't know the whole of it. Only bits and pieces of memory," he breathed as he tapped his head. "And what happens when I forget about Red, huh?" He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth in anger.

Ororo tried to keep up with him but she found herself lost, not understanding what he was trying to say. He reached out then and gripped both her wrists, eliciting a soft yelp of surprise from her before he brought his face closer to hers.

"What kind of goddamn animal would I be to forget her?"

Ororo's breath stopped suddenly, caught by the realization of Logan's true guilt. She finally understood. He wasn't afraid of remembering Jean. He was afraid of forgetting her.

Logan bore his gaze into Ororo's widening blue eyes, and he knew she could feel his shaking. He couldn't help it. After all, what kind of person loves another and then kills them? What kind of person then thinks they deserve some form of happiness afterwards? What kind of person just forgets? The worst kind. And that was Logan. Not even the worst. Not even human.

He shreds his kill and then leaves the carcass to rot. That was Logan.

He clenched his eyes shut against the hot wetness beginning at the corners. He blinked it back roughly, then realized he still had Ororo by the wrists. Releasing her, he brought his hands to his forehead and wiped them down his face. "God, I never deserved Jeannie."

Ororo was planted where Logan had yanked her toward him, but she was regaining her focus when she squatted back on her haunches and breathed in deep. "No, you did not," she said plainly, steadily. She was gripping her knees tightly. "Scott did."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, laughing softly at the whole thing. "Yeah. I see that now." He shook his head.

"But..." Ororo began, her eyes softening, "You could not forget Jean even if you had wanted to." She smirked at him, and his shoulders sagged in release of the tension. "She would not let you."

Logan looked at Ororo for several seconds, silently regarding her. He knew she meant what she said about him not deserving Jean. That was something he always had to hand to her. She was brutally honest and she stood by what she said. Ororo Munroe would not apologize for acknowledging the truth that others ignored in the face of comfort.

"You are still alive, Logan." Ororo's words brought Logan back to the present. "Her death should not be the reason you stop living. That would be the gravest dishonor to her name, not forgetting her." Her hard stare was unquestionable. She stood then, brushing off her pants. "Please afford her at least that much respect." Logan recognized the indisputable demand in her voice, hidden by the polite request.

Logan rose as well, but made no other move.

There were several long moments spent between the two with just the sound of the wind between them, before Ororo shook her thoughts and glanced down to the floor where they had been squatting. Taking in the sight of tools laid out before them, she asked, "What exactly were you doing here?"

Logan broke from his reverie to look at the floor as well. He brought a hand to the back of his neck. "Oh, I was just changing the oil."

Ororo cocked her head in question.

Logan bent down and gathered all the tools into the case beside the bike, hefting it up as he stood. "Well, now that Scooter isn't here, there ain't no one else interested in upkeeping these babies," he answered, jerking his head in the direction of the other cars.

She nodded, recognizing a chance to bring up his still being there. "And you decided to take that duty upon yourself? With all your free time, after all?"

Logan had placed the tool case back on the work shelf and turned at her question. She caught the wicked grin that flashed across his face and opened her mouth to question when he responded, "Well, my second option was to run naked through the woods, chanting ancient rites and hunting deer with my hands." His grin widened. "But I thought ya'd ring me out for indecent exposure or some other shit."

He bit back the laugh at her deadpan expression. "Just relax, Storm, I ain't some caveman."

"Oh," she began, crossing her arms. "You have yet to reach that evolutionary step?" she asked innocently.

"Nah," he chuckled, turning and heading toward the side garage door. "I skipped that one. Women weren't hot enough." He was smirking, almost to the door, when Ororo called out to him.

"Logan, wait." She caught up to him, standing just below him on the steps into the mansion.

He turned to her, expectant.

"I just wanted to...to let you know that..." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing around the garage.

"Yeah?" he urged her.

She looked straight back to him, took in a deep breath and said, "I do not like orange juice either."

Logan blinked at her in mild confusion before he smirked at her. "Then breakfast won't be a problem?"

Ororo let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "No. Breakfast will not be a problem."


	11. The Easiest Thing

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Okay, so this time I can honestly say that it was my own procrastinating that slowed this update. When I'm not working on my thesis for grad school, or working, I've employed my free time in other aspects than fanfiction writing. Anyone who's played Dragon Age can agree that it consumes you. I apologize. I have put down the Xbox. So here is another chapter. I'd especially like to thank _lychee loving_ who has been an immense motivation and encouragement to this piece. And so this chapter is dedicated to you, as well as the other many reviewers who have stuck by my characters for several chapters. You all have been great. Thank you. Enjoy.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Eleven: The Easiest Thing

_"There was something about hate that didn't fit Ororo. Not in Logan's eyes."_

Logan had awoken the next morning to find a dry-wall repair bill slipped under the door of his room. He sat on his bed, his arms resting atop his knees, chuckling. Logan pushed himself up off the mattress and leant before the door to pick up the paper. The bill wasn't much, about $125, but it was still money he'd rather not give up. Reaching back and rubbing the back of his neck, Logan glanced back to the drawer beside his bed, trying to recall how much cash he had left on him. It had been a while since he took an actual job. Sighing, Logan moved toward the drawer, dropping his hand from his neck and releasing the paper to land on his sheets. He rummaged through the drawer to find just a few more twenties rolled up. He picked them up and counted, groaning as he ended on eighty.

He supposed it wouldn't be in his best interest to tell Ororo that all his money had been spent on the beer he hides from her. No, that wouldn't go over too well. Just the fact that she slipped the bill under his door while he slept told him that she was absolutely serious about him paying this back. And when it came to money from the school, he'd rather stay out of Ororo's peripheral. He'd already "leeched" enough, as she would say.

Logan groaned once more as he decided to just talk to her about it. He found himself downstairs and heading toward the kitchen. He smelled the coffee before he turned the corner. Ororo was sitting silently at the smaller dining table for faculty, just past the kitchen island. She picked her head up at his entrance, smiling softly.

"Good morning, Logan."

Grunting a "mornin'", Logan stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets.

Ororo brushed a white strand of hair behind her ear as she motioned toward the kitchen. "Would you care for some breakfast?"

"Coffee's fine," he answered, walking over to the pot and pulling a mug from the cupboard above. He poured himself a cup and set the pot back, clicking off the little red light. Ororo watched him walk over to the small round table to join her. He sat there for a moment sipping on his coffee, looking resolutely away from her. Ororo raised a brow but soon returned to the fruit she had in front of her.

Logan glanced at her breakfast, a large half of pink grapefruit that was missing some sections. He watched as she took a tiny spoon and dug into one of the thin sections, scooping the juicy piece from the skin. She brought the piece to her mouth and chewed quietly, returning her spoon to the fruit for another section. It was surprisingly clean and efficient. Then he narrowed his eyes at the spoon, smirking.

"Is that a fuckin' baby spoon?"

Ororo stopped her spoonful of fruit midway to her mouth, glancing up at him. She raised an expectant brow at him, but remained silent.

Logan stared at her waiting for an answer, until it hit him. He blew air from his lips, rolling his eyes. "I mean, is that a baby spoon?"

Ororo smiled appreciatively before confirming, "Yes." She popped the hovering spoonful into her mouth.

Logan huffed. "You and your 'language'."

Ororo remained happily chewing her grapefruit.

"Why a baby spoon?"

Swallowing, Ororo pulled the spoon up to their vision. "It is small enough to dip into the sections and pull out a whole one, without cutting into the surrounding membrane. There are special grapefruit knives to aid in this but I find it pointless to purchase one when I already have such a spoon in my possession. It would be wasteful money."

Logan set his mug down and crossed his arms over the tabletop, leaning in as he inspected the small item she held. "Yeah, but how've you got a baby spoon? I ain't seen any babies around the mansion."

Ororo lowered the spoon silently, returning her attention to the fruit on her plate. She moved her lip to answer but caught it quickly.

Logan's eyes widened slightly, and he dropped his voice lower. "Did you...I mean, have you had...?"

Pursing her lips in a tight smile, Ororo returned her gaze to Logan. "No, I...never had a child of my own. Though perhaps a mansion full of students would qualify," she chuckled softly.

Logan sighed lightly enough for Ororo not to hear it. Having a kid was probably the last thing he expected from her, and in a way, he was relieved to know that there were still some things about her that he could guess. Still, she seemed to grow distant at the mention of the spoon. He decided not to push it. Instead, he nodded mutely, bringing his mug up to his lips to sip.

There were several moments of silence before Logan heard Ororo shift in her chair. He glanced at her, and saw that she was fingering the small spoon, her grapefruit left forgotten. "I...used to live in Morocco for some time, before I got caught up in Cairo."

Logan caught the slight break in her voice at the mention of Morocco. She drew in a deep breath, setting the spoon down on the table next to her fruit. "I spent much of my time in the company of a girl named Shaori. We were both roughly fourteen, maybe younger. She was one of the few who did not ostracize me."

Ororo looked up to find Logan staring quietly at her. He made no motion for her to continue, simply watched and waited. She turned her attention back to the tabletop as she went on. "I was an orphan by that point and we would sometimes steal _hindia_ from the market stands."

Logan furrowed his brows slightly, and Ororo turned to see his expression. She smiled softly as she clarified, "Sorry...we stole these...I suppose they are similar to pears, but from a cactus. Fruit."

"Ah," Logan mused, watching her still.

"Shaori had a little sister, Atzana. She was eleven I believe. Often, Shaori would take Atzana's small spoons for us to enjoy the _hindia_. They were great for scraping the skin. I had kept one with me when I left for Cairo, and I never saw Shaori again. Next thing I knew, I was traveling stateside with Charles." There was a hint of pain in Ororo's last words, a crease crossing her forehead as she gazed at the spoon resting on the table.

Logan found himself wanting to ask more, but afraid that the gates would close if he spoke. It was a glimpse of Ororo's past he figured few knew about, or at least, were still alive to tell it. Still, the way her gaze lingered on the spoon, her trembling brow, Logan knew there was more that she hadn't said. He knows that this is what he started out looking for. Pieces of a woman he could finally break through to see. And she was willingly opening up to him, releasing some kind of painful regret he could understand.

That look. He knew it well. He saw it every morning in the mirror.

Gulping heavily, he pushed more. "Ya never heard of her again?"

Ororo brought her gaze to meet Logan's and found a look that said he knew where this was going. Maybe not the path, but the destination was always the same. Regret. Helplessness. Some things you just can't change.

And when she looked at him then, she knew that he wasn't trying to sooth his own wounds. This was about her. He was focused solely on her. This was how bridges were built. With one side reaching out toward the other.

She watched as Logan reached.

Logan's eyes, though dark and focused on hers, were softened at her fallen expression. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes fanned out as he tried to smile softly at her. "Ororo...it's fine if ya don' want to..." He reached out hesitantly and tucked a strand of soft, white hair behind her ear.

Her eyes were frozen on his, and though she ached with the memories of lost times, she couldn't help the catch in her breath at his motion. The light touch of his rough fingertips along her earlobe stilled her. Suddenly she felt herself back in his room those few days before, his breathing fanning her face. She was sure he heard her heart railing against her ribcage.

Logan dropped his hand back to the table, keeping his gaze on hers. Licking her lips, Ororo flicked her eyes back to the spoon and she drew in a deep breath. Her lids fluttered closed, and immediately the smells of Morocco flooded her nostrils.

"I never heard of Shaori again, no. But her sister, Atzana, I later found."

Logan cocked his head in question and Ororo opened her eyes to look at him once more as she continued. "When I was finally older and more trusting of Charles, I asked a favor of him. I had hoped to locate and contact the two of them, whether they remained in Fez or travelled elsewhere in Morocco, or even came to the states as I did later. I might have preferred never knowing."

Logan narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What'd ya find out 'bout them?"

"They...had been caught in a sex trafficker's trade, stolen from their home only a couple years after I had left them. Apparently, the man running the operation, Rilo Anders, was an American business man, and had been arrested a few years after their abduction, before I had started looking for Shaori and Atzana."

She could barely hear the low growl Logan elicited. She watched as the hairs on his arms rose, his grip tightening on the handle of his coffee mug. Ororo turned to look out the dining room window. It had started snowing slightly.

"But...how'd ya find them? I mean..." Logan started, his voice deep and harsh as he thought about the young girls. He shook his head, continuing, "Storm, there had ta be so many other girls, how could ya possibly have...?"

She sighed softly, reaching up to the collar of her blouse. "Atzana had been found with other undocumented girls in a freight container during a raid of Anders' shipping company out of the Port of Miami. She and many others did not survive the trip. Since I had previously learned that both girls had been abducted from their home in Fez, I surmised that the same man had trafficked them. I never truly learned what happened to Shaori after she was taken from her home. Though I pray every day to the Mother that death came swiftly and mercifully to her." Ororo closed her eyes to the moisture that threatened to break through her lashes. She wiped a hand swiftly across her lids.

"What happened to the Anders guy?" Logan asked after a moment.

Ororo opened her eyes at his question, and Logan recognized a deadly hate brimming behind them. "He was sentenced to lethal injection, for the deaths of the girls, and worse crimes he had committed. The second known mutant to ever receive the death penalty."

Logan's eyes widened. "He was a mutant?"

Ororo chuckled darkly. "Yes. And none of the girls found in the freight container were. You can imagine what a field day the press had with that one. I...I had requested Charles' permission to attend the execution."

There was a dark recognition in Logan's eyes as he stared at Ororo. That understanding of wanting to watch them suffer. The need to be a witness to death. It was all too familiar to Logan.

"Do you know how easy it is, Logan? How easy it is to die?" Ororo's voice was deadly soft, steady, unfeeling. "I sat there on the other side of the glass and watched the needles fill his veins. And I remember thinking how easy it seems. First, the subject is rendered unconscious, with a compound called sodium thiopental. Then, they inject pancuronium bromide to paralyze the muscles. And finally, " Ororo gripped at the collar of her shirt, her fist shaking, "potassium chloride stops the heart." She pulled in a shaky breath. "It is like falling asleep. So easy."

There was a part of Logan that wanted to tell Ororo to stop. Some part of him that maybe didn't want to know this about her, in some insane wish to keep her untouched and untainted from this world. It took him a moment to realize how utterly ridiculous that was. None of them were safe, especially at Xavier's. But for some reason, Logan had always placed Ororo above that ugliness, in some universe far away from blood and dirt and lies. Even as she battled alongside him at Alcatraz, in his mind, she was far from this earthly plane he was shackled to. There was something very uncomfortable about seeing her eyes filled with loathing. Something Logan never wanted to see.

"I had hated him. Intensely." Ororo's voice was tight as it left her throat. "I hated him for what he did to Shaori and Atzana. And I hated that the world would see this man as a representative of all mutants. I hated what he did to them, but I also hated what he did to us. And that was when I realized something."

Logan cocked his head in silent question.

Ororo let out a tight laugh, wiping away the wetness at the corners of her eyes. "It was so easy to kill him. He looked just like any other man. He _was_ like any other man. You should have seen...you should have seen the fear in his eyes. You would recognize it. It is in all of us." Ororo glanced back down to Atzana's spoon lying on the table, and she picked it up to look at it resting in her palm. "Our greatest mistake as mutants is in separating ourselves from the scope of humanity. I am the same as Anders. I am the same as Atzana. When any one of us is lost to malice, humanity as a whole suffers. An injury to one is an injury to all¹."

Logan could have snorted at her comment. "Anders got off easy. He deserved worse."

"Maybe," Ororo conceded, slowly. "But I never want to know how it feels to hate like that again. That kind of loathing sits and festers and nurses itself into something worse, into apathy. And I cannot afford to be apathetic. Can you understand that, Logan?"

He figures that she already knew his answer. It was something he didn't think they'd ever truly agree on. Logan had no problem with hate or rage. It was an ample fuel source, and he had learned to hone such energy effectively into action the last several years. He had learned to find the usefulness of hate. Ororo refused to believe it existed. That was why Logan had always seen her above the fray. Maybe she was too good for humanity. Too good for any of them down here. Too good for him, he knew. But she would not understand that, so instead he responded, "Yeah. I can see that."

It was an empty answer, one that Ororo had expected anyway, and yet she was still disappointed that he had said it. Shouldn't she want him to see hate the way she saw it? But she didn't. She didn't want anything false between them. She'd rather a vehement argument than a hollow agreement. They'd passed the point of pretenses long ago. In some small way, though, perhaps she was happy that he decided to let this one go to her.

Logan cleared his throat loudly, leaning back in his chair as he brought the remainder of his cooling coffee to his lips. He was nodding slowly. "Yeah, I can see that," he repeated.

Ororo quirked her lip at him, leaning toward him. "Thank you, Logan. For listening,"

He opened his mouth to respond, ask her what the hell she was thanking him for, but instead he shut it hesitantly, mumbling a low "Sure" before bringing the mug back up to his mouth. He downed the rest of his coffee and got up to drop the mug in the sink. He turned to look back at Ororo, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. She had returned to her grapefruit, smiling gently down at the fruit as she dipped her spoon in once more.

There were long moments of silence throughout the kitchen, and Logan took the moment to listen for the sounds of waking children floors above him. There was something oddly securing about hearing them wake every morning without fail. Glancing back down toward Ororo's position at the dining table he wondered how to bring up his idea about paying off the bill she had slipped him earlier. He stood there musing until Ororo finished the last couple of sections in her grapefruit and moved into the kitchen where he was lounged against the counter. She quietly dropped her plate into the garbage and then moved next to him to join him in leaning against the counter. Logan blinked at her.

She crossed her arms across her chest and looked at him. "I know you are trying to say something. I thought I would help you along."

Well, shit.

Logan groaned and brought a hand to the back of his neck. He glanced around the room and his gaze landed on the window. Outside, it had begun to snow. The sun had not come fully over the rooftops and was hampered by grey clouds rolling in from the north. The mix of rain and snow cast a grey hue to the lightening red of the sky.

"So..." Ororo began.

Logan huffed. Okay, start off with something astute about the weather.

"Man, the sky looks like Satan's vomit."

Yeah. Because that one qualifies as _astute_. Logan shut his eyes in frustration, groaning once more.

Ororo simply blinked at him before turning her gaze to the window as well. She smirked at the image of the sky and nudged his shoulder lightly. "I assure you I had nothing to do with it."

"No, okay, look...that's not it," he fumbled. Logan wiped a hand down his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to blurt that out."

Ororo chuckled. "It is alright, Logan. Quite the apt description actually."

"Look, I actually wanted to talk to you about paying that bill you gave me."

"Oh?" Ororo raised a brow. "You have money enough after the beer you purchased last Tuesday?"

Logan gaped at her. "How did you...? I don't even-"

"I know all," she said simply.

Logan just eyed her suspiciously. "Well, yeah, I guess not as much left as I thought. Anyway, I found a way that I could pay off the bill. A job of sorts."

Ororo quirked her lip in amusement. "Of what sorts?"

Logan took a deep breath. "I know what I want to teach now."

Ororo's mouth fell agape. "Come again?"

* * *

¹ "An injury to one is an injury to all" - accredited to David C. Coates as a suggested and common socialist labor slogan, historically used by IWW


	12. Laying Them Down

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Yay, I'm not dead! Okay, I'm actually working on the next chapter right now so it won't be such a wait as you just had between updates. I'm honestly just trying to figure a way to steer this story toward an end I'll be happy with. It will be tied up in the next few chapters. And really, I think I write better emotional tension than physical tension so I feel if I keep going deeper into their relationship, the description will suck. Oh well, don't worry though. There will be a lot more closure coming up in the next chapters. And more Logan-Ororo interaction. MUCH more Logan-Ororo interaction. But this scene was especially necessary for Logan to progress. Please enjoy!

Secret Burdens

Chapter Twelve: Laying Them Down

"_Sometimes we hold so tight to things that have already left us because we fear not finding anything else worth holding onto."_

"You did what?"

Ororo groaned inwardly at Hank's tone. She could see his profusely fluffy blue eyebrows knit together over the video conference they shared. Leaning back in her desk chair, she rubbed at her temples mildly. It was the end of the school day, and the orange glow of the lowering sun that filtered in through the window behind her did little to ease the tension. Outside, it was still snowing softly, and children littered the grounds, trying to soak up the last of the sun's rays before their warmth left then entirely. She rolled her chair closer to the desk and laid her arms across the wood surface. Her monitor sat in the left corner of her desk, Hank's worried stare gracing the screen. She could see by the room behind him he was back in his office at Washington.

Ororo sighed as she pulled her shoulders back to address him once more. "I stated that I accepted Logan's proposal."

A frown crept its way across Hank's face. "Ororo…"

"Yes, I am aware of the possible consequences," she interrupted before he could protest, a hand waved through the air to hold him off. "However, I have examined his case and have come to the conclusion that, unorthodox as he is, Logan may very well be essential here at the mansion, as more than an X-man. I admit, my reaction was quite the same as yours when he first suggested the position he wished to fill."

She could see Hank searching for a reason to object. "But Ororo, really? Logan as school nurse?"

"Okay, you make it sound as if he will be wearing a white frock and hat with a red cross emblazoned on his chest." Ororo had to pause a moment and imagine Logan curtsying in such a costume, but shook her head to rid it of the image and returned her attention to Hank. "It will be more of an active health course, concerning self-defense and immediate first-aid care. You can hardly claim him to be inexperienced in such subjects, Hank. And it will be offered to all students, though those selected as X-team candidates will later receive advanced medical training and self-defense courses in focus groups with Logan."

Taking his glasses from their place atop his nose, Hank rubbed between his eyes. "Ororo, dear, please tell me that this is some theatrical play on my sense of humor, because I can hardly believe you to be serious right now." Hank stopped, and dropped his hand from his face, staring at Ororo. "You realize he is not the role model for healthy, active living, considering his mutation can easily repair the damage he's done. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already killed his liver six times over with all the alcohol he consumes."

Ororo placed her hands in the air in mock surrender. "I grant you, you are most likely correct in that assumption. However, because of his knowledge of pain and the effects it has on the body, he may be a better proponent for relating what your body is in need of better then most, whether _his_ attends to such needs in a quicker fashion or not." Ororo lowered her hands, clearing her throat to continue. "He has given first aid to many of us in times of need. He is aware of the procedures needed to stabilize a patient. You and Jean have made sure of that in the time he has spent at the mansion."

Hank's frown grew deeper, not because he remembered such instances, but because Jean no longer could. He was pulled from his momentary grief when Ororo continued, her voice level and sure.

"And when it comes to combat and defensive maneuvers, he is as skilled, if not more so than any of the other X-men or faculty, you and myself excluded of course," she finished with a sly smile.

Hank found himself chuckling softly. "I'd like to see him try and best you, my dear."

Ororo smiled at the compliment, but continued. "I would claim that the two of us are a far match. Now," Ororo placed her arms crossed atop the desk once more, "I am convinced he will make a sufficient fitness instructor. Mind you, I am aware that Logan's brand of fitness is more maintenance than preventative, though I assure you I have given him ample material on health and the body to read up on in preparation."

Raising a brow, Hank deadpanned "You honestly believe he will read anything you suggest to him?"

Ororo bristled slightly at the thought. Yes, she thought, Logan respected her wishes enough – and her authority as headmistress regardless – to agree to her small request of some book reading. He was not a complete Neanderthal.

Well, maybe just a little.

"Yes, Hank, I have faith that he will take this position seriously, and thus my requests of him," she answered confidently.

Hank sighed once more and placed his glasses back atop his nose. "Well, you needn't ask my permission. You are headmistress, and you must stand by your decisions, whatever havoc they may bring with them."

Ororo narrowed her eyes and smirked playfully. "The vote of confidence is appreciated, Hank." Her smirk eased into a small smile. "And though I know I need not ask your permission, I should like to have your approval all the same."

Hank opened his mouth to answer when a knock sounded through the screen and Ororo heard a door open somewhere in Hank's office. "Dr. McCoy?" a voice asked from behind the screen. Ororo saw Hank look up past his monitor and smile politely. "Yes, Davis?"

"The SecNav is on line two."

Hank's eyebrows rose slightly and he dismissed the faceless voice civilly.

When the click of the door sounded again, Hank's gaze returned to the screen. "Ha, the SecNav is waiting on my line. And mother said I'd never amount to anything," he joked.

Ororo tried to smile but she could not help the curious gaze she knew she was giving Hank. He caught it immediately, and suddenly his features were sober. "Ororo, I know he wants to speak with me about comments I made at a military consultation with the president last week."

Unbidden, Ororo's brows knit together and her hairs stood on end. Even the mention of armed forces had Ororo tensing these days. "What sort of consultation, Hank?" she asked slowly.

Hank glanced above the monitor once more. Making sure the door was indeed closed, he leveled his heavy gaze on Ororo. "We had a meeting concerning a special-operations assault task force consisting solely of mutants."

Ororo's eyes narrowed in suspicion immediately. Unconsciously, she leaned in closer toward the screen. "Why, after the events at Alcatraz, would the U.S. put together a regiment of militarized mutants and _especially_ regulate them to special-ops combat missions? How did this ever get past the committee?" Ororo didn't realize her voice had been rising steadily.

"Ororo, please," Hank hushed her, one finger over his lips. He glanced above the monitor screen again and back, lowering his finger. "The idea was proposed by General Timothy J. Shrap. He's the head of the Armed Forces Committee. I cannot tell you any more over this line. I will fly back into Westchester on Tuesday and there, I can go over everything with you in detail. Until then, I need you to find out anything not on record about General Shrap. Can you do that?"

Ororo opened her mouth to protest, demand an explanation of what Hank knew but he held up his hand at her fuming. "Please, Ororo. I need you to do this for me. Employ Kitty if you need but try to keep as many people as unaware as possible, at least, until I can brief you fully. Okay?"

Ororo's shoulders slumped at the sight of his softened features. She never really could say no to him. Sighing, she nodded her head silently. "Alright, Hank, although I do not like operating uninformed, if you feel this is best then I will do as you ask."

"Thank you," he answered, smiling warmly. "Now, I really must not keep the Secretary of the Navy waiting. And Ororo?"

She lifted her eyebrows to him in question.

"I will always approve of your decisions, especially when they concern the school. Yours is the only judgment I have never had to question. And it will always remain so." Hank nodded to her solemnly, before waving a hand before the screen and suddenly blacking out.

Ororo leaned back in her chair. "I am glad at least one of us does not question it," she said softly to the empty room.

* * *

As he made his way down the corridors of the hidden X-Men facility underneath the mansion, Logan realized that he hadn't been down here much lately. He used to plague these halls daily, especially the path he now took, toward the med-lab. These walls had become as familiar as his own skin, welcoming and comforting even, as much as he hated to admit it. But now, Logan doesn't remember the last time he came here to feel Jean's presence. There was the Danger Room session he had with Ororo just before she blew up at him in his room. Grumbling, Logan rubbed his arm sorely in memory of the electric bolts she'd hit him with. Well, he could hardly say they weren't warranted. And yet, the last time he can remember being down here was…

Logan stopped before the doors of the med-lab, watching them slide open almost soundlessly. Lights flicked on throughout the room upon the opening of the door. The stark white of the room filled Logan's vision.

Oh yes, that's right. The day this whole confrontation with Ororo started.

Glancing down the hallway one last time, Logan stepped into the room. There were the observation tables to his left and on his right sat the monitor system and computer desk.

Even above the anti-septic and plastic smell of wires, the room is filled with the scent of African acacias. Logan closed his eyes and breathed in deep, a rumbling starting in his chest.

His eyes flash open. Jean, he tells himself. He was here for Jean. Not Storm.

Logan focuses his attention once more on the observation table next to him, shaking the scent from his head. Walking over to the table, he places a hand on the surface almost reverently. This was where they first met. He figured that had to mean something. Turning, Logan pushed himself up on the table, letting his legs dangle below him. He leaned over his knees, rubbing a hand down his worn face.

"Oh, Red…" he sighed. "Things would be so much simpler if I hadn't killed you, huh?" he chuckled darkly.

There was silence in the room. Not even the beeping of machines answered him. There was nothing here.

He picked his head up to look around the room once more. Glancing over the desk opposite him he noticed the stack of folders next to the screen, the pulled out rolling chair from the desk, and there, at the corner of the desk, was a small hair clip. Logan narrowed his eyes at it and caught the gleam of white from a hair tangled in its grip. He swallowed and looked away.

Logan rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Look, Jeannie…," he started roughly, not sure how to make the words out. He figured he'd start at someplace familiar. "I came here 'cause I got to put something to rest. And I need ya to help me do it."

The silent response from the empty room was not helping.

Logan rolled his eyes slightly. "I dun' even know why I'm in here talkin' to ya like this, Red, but I figure you're more real to me here than under the ground o' the cemetery out back. Tombstone never fit ya anyway." Logan linked his hands together, resting his forearms along his knees.

"Anyway, I just wanted ya to know that…I ain't gonna be comin' down here any longer. Maybe I kept doing it in the first place 'cause I felt guilty. But I don't anymore. Storm helped me figure that out. If I felt guilt, well, it'd be like spittin' on yer grave. No regrets, right? That's how it's got to be, right?" Logan gripped his hands tighter, swallowing thickly. "Anyway, you should know that I'm…," Logan's voice caught in his throat. God, if only it wasn't so goddamn silent. If only Ororo's scent wasn't everywhere.

He cleared his throat roughly, closing his eyes. Logan braced his hands along the table beneath him, gripping the edge tightly. "I'm sorry, Jeannie. I really am. Sorry that me lovin' you brought nothing but pain. And…sorry that I kept you in my thoughts as an excuse. An excuse to be angry because I was helpless. I know that I'm not the only one who feels helpless. And…" Logan shook his head slightly, thinking of the day he had Ororo against the wall of the med-lab, screaming at her in righteous anger. Stupid, ignorant anger. He hates that he had ever thought to hurt her. Her of all people.

"It ain't right. I know it ain't right but…" Logan opened his eyes once more, and instinctively his gaze fell on Ororo's clip atop the desk. He clenched his teeth together, pulling in a shaky breath. "It ain't right but…I can't stop thinkin' 'bout…" Logan's gaze turned dark, the hair rising along his arms. His voice became a rumbling growl.

"I want to touch her," he breathed.

Suddenly, his heart beat was in his ears. The words aloud made everything seem more present. His breathing was heavier, the lights in the room were brighter. Logan had this irrational fear that the table beneath him would crack under his tightening grip.

"I want to touch her. Ororo. If only to prove that she's real, and that I _can_ touch her. To prove that…that what I'm feelin' ain't wrong. And to see if she…" Logan growled lowly, his brows furrowing together. "To see that I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one feelin' this."

Suddenly, the faraway tread of footsteps caught Logan's ears. His body tensed up immediately and the adamantium beneath his knuckles itched for release. It took only a moment to recognize the soft and bouncy tread belonging to Kitty, nearly four corridors away. She had wondered off to the east corridor. Logan rose a brow in suspicion. The only room down that way was the research lab, and it had been a long time since the X-Men had been in need of information regarding a mission. Logan's gaze narrowed in concentration. What was Kitty doing down here?

Broken from his attention to the barren room before him, Logan glanced once more to the hair clip on the desk. He sighed lightly, releasing his grip of the table below him and dropping down to the floor.

"I guess it's easy to love someone when they're alive and with ya. It ain't so easy when they're dead, huh Red?" Logan asked softly. "But I don't want to hurt ya anymore, and I don't want to hurt her either. So I need to lay this to rest, or I can't be sure of anything."

Logan pulled out a cigar from his back jeans pocket, and raised it in a salute to the empty room around him. "To you Red, and to laying down burdens. God knows we could be so much more without 'em."

With one last deep breath, Logan grabbed the clip from the desk and shoved it into his jeans pocket. He then pulled out his lighter, and ignited the end of his cigar, placing the lighter back in his shirt pocket. The doors of the med-lab closed softly behind him as he strolled off in search of Kitty. The lights had already gone out.

* * *

"Hmm, Shrap, Shrap, Shrap…" Kitty was mumbling to herself as her hands flew across the keyboard before her. She was sitting Indian-style in the rolling office chair before the X-Team's computer system of the research lab. Storm had asked her to do a little illegal researching on a "General Timothy J. Shrap". Kitty had no idea who the man was, nor why she had to keep it in strict confidence but if the leader of the X-Men asked her to hack into both the Homeland Security and Armed Forces committees then it had to be important. And X-related no doubt.

She heard the sound of the sliding doors behind her swish open and smiled proudly, perking up in her seat. Her hands continued their typing as she spoke to the guest walking up behind her. "Guess what, Storm, there's a bit of info our little general decided not to share with the public. And I've found some interesting emails between him and the Secretary of Defense. I'm still decoding the encryption on the committees' data though so just a minute and…" she swirled her seat around to find Logan standing there. Full-blown smirk and all.

Kitty's face fell. "Uh, Logan…" she stuttered.

Logan brought his smoking cigar to his mouth, pulling in a deep breath. He lowered the cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke and leaned down so that his face was level with Kitty's. She could see his mischievous eyes dancing.

"So who's General Shrap?" he asked, grinning.


	13. Bed of Lilies

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Yay, chapter! I told you I was working on it. Had to get this scene in. It was long overdue, but I needed them to get through everything they have so far to make this believable. And yes, there will be major old school X-Men action coming up in the next few chapters. Along with other goodies. Thank you to all the readers still with me on this.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Thirteen: Bed of Lilies

"_Answers weren't what he wanted anymore. Everything had changed."_

"Now, Wolvie…" Kitty started, hands raised before her, as though trying to calm an animal about to pounce. Behind her, the multiple computer screens in the research lab silently sifted through information.

Raising a brow, Logan's smirk widened at the sight of her stuttering for an excuse. He took another long drag from the cigar in his hand and stood up from leaning in toward her. He stared at her silently as he released the smoke into the air.

"I really don't know anything, okay?" Kitty began hesitantly, hands still in the air before her.

Logan's gaze flicked to the computer screens behind her and Kitty turned her head to follow his gaze. Quickly, she reached back to the keyboard and hit a couple keys that immediately filed away the information on screen.

Logan grumbled at her action, frowning at her and Kitty turned back to him sheepishly. "Captain's orders, mate."

Logan's frown deepened. What would Storm have Kitty investigating that she couldn't tell him?

"Look, all I know is that Storm wanted me to look into something. I really don't know beyond that, so please, _please_, stop looking at me like that Wolvie. You're giving me the bejeebies." When Logan didn't answer her, she cocked an eyebrow at him, leaning forward a bit. "Logan? Aren't you going to say anything?"

Logan blinked at Kitty before turning to walk out the door. "You've said enough for the both o' us, kiddo."

Kitty grumbled to herself as the sliding door closed behind Logan. "Great," she sighed, rubbing a hand down her face and wondering how angry Storm would be that she blabbed so quickly.

* * *

Later that night, after classes had ended and dinner had been served, Logan walked down from his room in search of Ororo. At this point, he knew enough not to interrupt any of her duties concerning the students. If he wanted to talk to her he would have to find her when she was on her own. He had been descending the staircase toward the front foyer when he found Warren standing at the bottom of the stairs. Peter was just behind him.

"Logan," Warren greeted, somber.

Raising a brow at them, Logan stopped his descent and crossed his arms. "Yeah, boys?"

Warren's wings twitched slightly, his feathers nestling against his skin as he stepped toward Logan. All of a sudden, Logan was aware of the tightness of Warren's features, the hard line his mouth was set in, the furrow of his brow. He watched him swallow thickly. Glancing to Peter, Logan caught a hesitant worry fleeting across the stoic man's features.

"Ororo sent us. X-business."

At Warren's remark, Logan looked back down to him. "What is it?" he asked, his arms uncrossing.

Shaking his head, Warren continued, "She hasn't told us yet. Just that there would be a meeting tomorrow in the conference room that would require all X-men to be present. She said Hank was flying in tomorrow morning at 10 and we should all be informed of the situation when we gather at noon."

Peter stepped forward. "She looks worried. More than I've seen her in a long time." He bore his gaze into Logan, and Logan could see the concern settled deep in his eyes. "Not since Alcatraz," he intoned meaningfully.

Logan stared at Peter, his teeth grinding. "Where is she?"

Warren threw his thumb back, motioning toward the back entrance through the rec room. "I saw her head toward the greenhouse last." He moved to go up the stair past Logan. "We'll see you tomorrow then. And let's hope it's only a false alarm."

Logan scoffed. "Sure, bub. Let's do that," he grumbled as he walked past them toward the rec room and the porch entrance out back.

Peter sighed and followed Warren up the stairs toward their rooms. "I really hope he doesn't make things worse," he said under his breath, almost wishing Logan could still hear him.

* * *

Even in the dark of night, Logan could make out the form of Ororo through the glass walls of the dimly lit greenhouse, where she stood toward the end of her indoor jungle. He strode toward the entrance, pulling the glass door open and suddenly, he was assaulted with the scent of all her plants. The overpowering perfume of her African violets flooded his nostrils. He looked around and found himself surrounded by white jasmine flowers, and as he walked further in, following the pebbled and dirt path winding toward the back of the large glass structure, he found more colorful flowers encompassing the room. All around were spread poincianas, pepper flowers, bright tropical orchids and all colors of carrion flowers that littered the dense vegetation on all sides. He passed a pond on his left carrying Egyptian lotus along its surface. But the scent of acacias was what pulled him further along the path.

He found her standing among her plants on the far side by one of the glass walls. Her hands were framing the long-stemmed white Calla lily that sprouted from the ground at her feet. The lilies were all around her. Logan stopped for a moment to watch her. She had on a pair of worn jeans shorts, and she was wearing that same old t-shirt, reading "I Ran with Mexicans" across the breast, that he found her in that morning so long ago when he had selfishly asked her "Did you love him?". Logan stopped at the memory. This was not going to happen again.

He glanced at her feet and noticed she was barefoot. A smile crept across his face. He looked up to find her long white hair loosely braided down her back. The urge to reach out and touch her hair was so strong he found himself stepping toward her without knowing it. She turned to him.

Logan sucked in a small breath when he saw her shaky blue irises lock onto his. Her eyes gleamed with the threat of tears and Logan found that he never wanted to see them like that again. She tried to form a slight smile, but it crumbled slowly and she turned back toward the lily in her hands, taking in a deep trembling breath. "Oh, Logan," she breathed.

He was next to her before he even realized he needed to be, his hand just below her shoulder blade. There was an urgency in his touch. "Storm."

When she didn't answer him, he moved his hand up to grip her shoulder lightly and turn her toward him. "Storm," he said again, this time louder, surer. "What is it?"

Ororo's eyes met his and she swallowed down the fear, the apprehension. She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Logan, I do not know. And that is what frightens me."

Logan didn't think anything could scare Ororo. But then again, he didn't think anything could hurt her either. And hadn't he proved that one wrong time and again? Logan growled inwardly and pushed the thought aside. He put his hand to her cheek to turn her face toward him once more. She opened her eyes obligingly, her lashes fluttering against her lids. Logan bore his dark gaze into hers, the hand on her cheek falling to her neck. "Tell me."

Another heavy sigh left Ororo's body and she gripped his hand on her neck. "I fear the X-men may need to enter yet another battle soon. Very soon if I am correct. And…" Ororo's eyes searched Logan's. "And I am not ready to lose another friend, if it should come to that." She pulled Logan's hand from her and stepped past him along the pebbled path.

Logan turned and silently watched her walk toward the pond just behind them. She knelt beside it and reached a hand out to touch one of the floating Egyptian lotuses.

"Who's General Shrap?" Logan finally asked, his tone a bit harsh. It was difficult to hide the slight anger he felt in her leaving him in the dark about this. He knew she heard it too.

Turning her head in his direction, Ororo raised a brow from her kneeling position beside the water. "If you are upset that I had not informed you earlier, then your anger is misplaced," she stated calmly. Looking back at the beautiful floating flowers before her, she continued. "Aside from the trust placed in me by Hank to keep silent on the issue until further information could be disclosed, I am also the leader of the X-Men. And as such, it is up to my discretion what is to be shared with the team. I had not known enough yesterday, when Hank first asked for my assistance, to have worried you all needlessly with only rumors of an issue."

"But it's more than that now, ain't it?" Logan pushed. "It's got you worried, Storm. I know. I can smell it on ya."

Ororo glanced at him once more, eyes narrow. She was perturbed that he could sense such things without her wanting to reveal them. It made her feel too vulnerable, too open. She needed to regain the control of this conversation. Standing fully, Ororo turned to face Logan. "Yes. The situation has now warranted the surveillance of the X-Men, and I fear, our interference as well. However, I do not have much to go on until Hank arrives tomorrow morning."

Logan stepped closer toward her, arms up in a peaceful approach. "But ya could still tell me stuff, right? There's more, ain't there? That you _do _know."

Ororo eyed him suspiciously.

Cocking his head in her direction, Logan went on. "I'm not just any of the X-Men anymore. Am I?"

Ororo remained silent, considering him for a moment. She glanced out the glass wall of the greenhouse toward the mansion. There were lights on in most of the rooms, where the children of Xavier's Institute called their home. Rogue was in one of those rooms. So were Kitty and Bobby and Peter. Warren now, too. She looked back to Logan. No, he wasn't like the others. And it wasn't just because they were the students and she and he were the adults. It wasn't because she had fought alongside him so much more. It wasn't because Charles trusted him with The Dream as dearly as he had trusted her. It was because looking at Logan like this seemed to always loosen her tongue. Whether in anger or scolding or nostalgia, something about this man made her want to speak volumes. He made her want to tell him truths she had thought would never come to light. There was something about Logan that steadily, determinedly, weaseled its way into her thoughts. And she had the damnedest time trying to shake him out.

These days, she didn't even want to.

But this was what Logan was talking about. This was the trust and the honesty that they had each asked of each other. It started here. It started at the beginning.

Ororo took a step toward him so that they were almost eye level, her stance only inches from his. Her eyes searched his. "Logan, there is something I need to explain to you, but before that, I want you to know that I will not break my word to Hank. You will learn all at the meeting tomorrow with the other X-Men."

Logan's chest rose in frustration, but the growl brewing in his throat was stopped by the gentle touch of Ororo's soft fingers to his lips. It was so sudden it startled him into silence immediately.

"Please, Logan. Please let me finish." Her eyes were pleading, the tender touch of her fingers pressed to his lips firm yet unsure.

He couldn't take his eyes from her.

Sighing, and closing her eyes, Ororo pulled her hand from Logan's mouth, taking his silence as his motion for her to continue. Her gaze fell to the floor beside her. "You once asked me if I loved him."

Logan's eyes widened unconsciously. He knew who she was talking about. But why was she bringing this up now? Hadn't he let her know that he was fine? He was fine not knowing. That wasn't what he was interested in anymore.

"You asked me if I loved…" Ororo started slowly, her gaze meeting Logan's once more, "Scott. You asked about him once." Her blue eyes were piercing Logan's.

He didn't need to hear this. But the need in her eyes held him motionless. "I don't care," he breathed. "I don't care anymore. That's not what I-"

"But I _do_ care" she interrupted. Taking in a deep breath, Ororo placed a hand on Logan's chest. Her touch was warm and steady, and unconsciously, Logan leaned into it. "I did. I did love him"

Logan expelled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Jesus fucking Christ, Ororo." He ran a hand roughly through his thick, dark hair. "Why did you…? You don't need to explain anythin', darlin'." But there was something in Logan's chest that constricted harshly at her words. God, this was not supposed to happen. It was what he wanted in the first place, right? This was what he was looking for when he started this whole bullshit mess.

He never thought it would hurt this much.

"Logan, please, I need to tell you this because…because it is important to me that you _understand_." Ororo's eyes were moist and clouding white. Logan could smell the threat of rain, even through the smell of acacias he had become accustomed to waking to. "I need you to _understand_ everything," she beseeched him.

Logan's brow furrowed and he had to stop himself from taking a step back from her, separate from her touch. Her hand at his chest held him there. "Alright. If that's what ya need to do, then do it. Go ahead."

Ororo was pained at his initial rejection of her confession. This was not what he should know. There was so much more to it, so much more to her. But if she wanted him to accept all the things that made her the person she was then this was something he'd have to accept as well. She cleared her throat. "I never – _never_ - made my feelings known to Scott. You need to know that. I never acted on anything. I knew that he loved Jean, and I loved Jean dearly enough to not interfere."

"Did she know?" Logan found that his voice came out clipped.

Ororo almost winced at his defensive manner. He noticed.

Logan swallowed, trying to soften his features, let her know that he wasn't asking in defense of Jean. He'd already promised to lay that burden down.

Recognizing his silent change in manner, she went on softly, her head hanging slightly in recollection. "Jean…eventually knew. And…and the pathetic part is that she actually offered to step back."

Logan could hear her voice cracking, the quake lining her slight accent. Logan suddenly brought his hand to cover hers on his chest. It gave her confidence she didn't realize she still carried. Taking in a deep breath, Ororo brought her eyes back to meet the dark gaze of Logan's. "She had said that she valued our friendship too much to cause me such pain. And I almost took her up on it. But it was what made me realize that she was deserving of him, and that I was not."

Logan's grip tightened on her hand and his stare turned heated. "You're every bit deserving, Storm," he ground out. "What the hell ever made you think otherwise?"

Ororo blinked at him. Her face crumbled into pain, her free hand rising up to cover her tearing eyes. She sucked in a shaky breath. "Oh Logan…I cannot…" She had begun to shake. "I do not think I can even…" She was shaking her head, her eyes covered to his gaze still. "I am sorry, Logan. I am _so very_ sorry. You have more than earned my trust. And I could not share this with you until now."

Logan eyed her in silence at first, before deciding to take the moment as his opening. "And why now Storm?"

Ororo stopped shaking her head, her trembling breaths falling silent. She drew her hand from her face and Logan found her white swirling eyes filled with warm tears. There was a wet trail down one cheek. "What?" she whispered.

Logan looked at her meaningfully. "Why now, Storm? Why tell me now? What's changed?"

Ororo blinked again in confusion, glancing around for whatever answer she thought Logan was looking for. "I…I have changed, Logan. And so have you. I no longer wish us to be strangers." She became suddenly aware of her hand still alighted on his chest, the feel of his warmth beneath his shirt. She pulled her hand back.

But suddenly, Logan had her by the wrists, his grip tight on her skin and she was surprised to find his gaze hard on hers. She pulled in a sharp breath. "Logan…" she began, warning.

"But it's not just that is it, Storm?" Logan brought himself closer to her, and his proximity made Ororo want to pull back once more, but she found herself motionless against him. "There's something else… something else you're not sharing." His thumb moved along her skin and grazed her pulse point, the motion intimate in a way that had Ororo's breathing quickening. She glanced at his hand on her wrist and narrowed her eyes. Her features were hard once more as she turned her face to Logan.

"You assume too much," she bit out, now stepping back fully from him.

Logan growled and, suddenly, she was yanked back to him, flush against him, and the sudden contact had Ororo swallowing thickly.

"Stop," Logan demanded. His breath fanned her face, his voice low and heavy. The room felt unreasonably hot to Ororo. "Stop pretendin'" he ground out.

Ororo's mouth fell open in protest as she tugged against his grip. "Logan," she bit out, her teeth grinding.

"No."

"Logan," she warned once more, but this time, he could hear the yielding in her voice. It made him bold.

"_No_," he urged once more, pushing into her. He licked his lips as his eyes shot down to look at her trembling mouth. His breath hitched, his dark stare becoming hooded as he looked back to her wide eyes. Her face was flushed, the warmth of his breath easing her limbs into surrender and she found herself leaning into his body.

"Something else has changed, Ororo. You want honesty?" he breathed, his deep timber resonating throughout her body. He glanced at her lips once more, and when she licked them in anticipation, he let out an unconscious groan. She shuddered at the sound. His grip tightened on her wrists and he pulled her hands to his chest, looking straight into her eyes. "You're all I think about."

Ororo had only a moment to process that thought before she found Logan's warm lips urgent against hers and a craving she hadn't known was there, suddenly enflamed.

It started here. It started at the beginning.


	14. Right and Natural

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: I am so sorry that this took so long but honestly, this was the hardest chapter for me to write. I didn't know how to handle the scene of them actually kissing and it was extremely important to get their feelings on the matter right as it happened. I'm horrible at these scenes though, which is why it took me so long to write it. I'm still not happy with it but it's what I got and you guys have been without for too long. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Fourteen: Right and Natural

"_Nothing had felt so right in such a long time. Nothing felt like her."_

There was something in Logan's kiss that made Ororo think she had always known his taste. Something natural and fluid in the motion of his lips over hers. Something effortless in her instinct to move against him. Some memory that felt relived again and again.

That old sweater you pull from the back of your drawer to discover it still fits. That childhood friend who, once reconnected, sounds just as they did fifteen years ago. That song you've never forgotten the words to.

Logan's kiss was as familiar as rain.

She'd felt it before in the earth, seen it before in the skies, sensed it in the power rippling beneath her skin. His touch was one she'd known intimately all her life, in the feel of the wind around her, the water and thunder at her fingertips. The electric thrill of his mouth on hers.

And she kissed back with an ancient remembrance of what it was to kiss Logan. As though she had always known his lips, his skin, his touch. As though they were her own. Some part of her that now, finally, felt it had come home.

She hadn't known how long she'd been missing.

Ororo's fingers curled into the material of Logan's shirt as he still held her hands to his chest. She gripped him tighter to her, a strength in her hold of him that surprised even her. It almost scared her to feel such need.

Logan's mouth moved against Ororo's roughly as he released her wrists to grip at her waist tightly. And when the tip of her tongue grazed his lips, he grunted in response, pushing her back so that she hit the glass wall behind her.

The coolness of the glass pane against Ororo's back instinctively made her arch further into Logan's body and he pressed into her, his mouth opening up to hers. The heat and breath of her in his mouth flooded his senses and he moved his tongue against hers greedily. Her breath hitched as his lips pushed against hers, his teeth nipping at her lips. She had lost track of her hands somewhere between his back and his mass of hair.

Logan dropped one hand from her waist and trailed it to her hip, gripping the skin there painfully. Her moan in response spurred him on, and with a final swipe of his tongue along her lips he moved his mouth over her neck. His lips were hot against her dark skin, the wetness of his tongue searing. When she felt his groan resonate through her whole body she suddenly felt her senses reclaim themselves.

"Logan," she breathed weakly, one hand coming to his shoulder in some feeble effort to get his attention. He barely grunted in response, instead pushing harder against her, his fingers digging into the skin at her hip as he sucked at the skin below her ear.

Ororo's breathing jagged and rough, she blinked hard, trying to focus through the feel of Logan's body flush against hers. She cleared her throat, repeating, this time louder, "_Logan_."

He didn't pull away from her but the sudden halt of his lips against her neck told Ororo that he had heard the urgency in her tone. He had yet to release his hold of her however.

Swallowing, Ororo pulled her head back and pushed at his shoulder to get his gaze up.

There was a low growl rumbling through his chest as he pulled back just enough to catch her eyes. His breath still fanned her lips, her hand trembling at his chest. Logan stared at her, his dark gaze unrelenting and impatient. "What?" The word was hot against her face.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her annoyance focusing her further. "Do not 'what' me."

The slight crinkle in his eyes told her he was smiling, but his breathing was still deep and the weight of his body against hers meant he wasn't planning on having a conversation anytime soon. She sighed, licking her lips and suddenly regretting it as his gaze darted there immediately. His face was moving toward hers without warning again and she had barely a second to mutter his name before his lips were pushing against hers again.

Logan couldn't get close enough. There was too much space, too much air between them. He wanted to feel nothing but her. Not the greenhouse around them, the air between them, not the shirt keeping his hands from her skin. He moved a hand beneath the material of her shirt and gripped at the warm skin of her hip.

Ororo tore her mouth away. "Logan, please! I need to – you need to listen."

"I _am_ listening," she heard him breath impatiently. There was a pause in his voice then, and Ororo could have sworn she could hear his smirk. "You sound amazing."

She didn't think Logan could still make her flush. She took the moment to clear her throat and push him further away from her. He relented, reluctantly of course.

"Logan, please, I do not think I can…" Her voice trailed off and her gaze dropped to her hands resting on his chest. Somehow the image didn't seem strange. The feel of him beneath her fingertips was the most natural thing she'd felt in months. Her brows furrowed at the thought and she turned her gaze to look through the glass of the greenhouse, her eyes taking in the mansion behind them, the children sleeping obliviously in their beds. Her throat tightened.

But as she was about to open her mouth and explain, Logan brought a hand up to her chin and turned her face toward him once more. She was surprised by the softness of his pull, the gentle plead in his eyes for her attention. It was a blaring opposite to the force she'd just felt in his hands on her skin. It caught the words in her throat.

"Do you trust me?" He had asked it so softly, she barely believed he had said anything.

Ororo's brows scrunched in confusion. She was suddenly aware of her heavy breathes, her trembling body pressed between him and the glass at her back. She swallowed. "What?" It was a breathless question.

Logan held his hand below her chin, and his eyes crinkled with his small smile. His voice was warm and low this time. "Do you trust me, Ororo?"

She stared at him, trying to figure out at what level she wanted to answer that question. Because did he really think she had a single answer for all the trusts she'd learned to place in him? All the trusts she was secretly holding back in hopes he'd never have to know the reality that was Ororo Munroe. This person she was becoming. This person she was losing. All the things she wanted and yearned for and could never have. And all the things she spends nights crying over. Lives past and loves lost and a Dream she doesn't think she has the heart to continue alone anymore. Were these the things he was asking for? Were these the realities he hoped she trusted him with?

Ororo sighed softly, and quirked a small smile. "I have always trusted you with my life, Logan, since the first time I fought alongside you."

Logan's smile slowly faded.

"My heart is another matter entirely."

Logan dropped his hand from her chin to rest on her neck. He glanced at the skin there, at the sight of his palm to her skin. It was a welcomed sight. But he could feel even then the tremors beneath her skin, smell the trepidation blossoming beneath the surface. Hell, he could swear he heard the clenching of her heart every time she drew a breath. He looked back to her eyes. "Is it Scott?"

She blinked at him. "No, it is not...", she sighed. "It has not been Scott for a while. It is simply..." She couldn't even finish the sentence. She left the thought hanging bewteen them, hoping she wouldn't have to say it out loud.

Logan nodded silently, swallowing thickly before he began. "I know. I know it's hard. And I never expected any of this to happen but I can't just-". He stopped. He didn't know. Can't just what?

She was screaming the question inside herself.

He licked his lips. "I can't just ignore what might be the best damn thing to happen to me in God knows how long. I mean, fuck Ororo – I don't…I don't know how to do anything but act on what feels _right _and natural. And right now that's you. You feel right to me. And I have no fuckin' clue about how it all came to that but there it is. There it fuckin' is. And I ain't running away from this one."

Ororo's lips trembled, warm tears stinging the corners of her eyes. This wasn't how she had wanted things to happen. There was so much more she had to do, so much more she had to say before she could allow herself to even think about "natural" and "right". And Goddess if she didn't want to feel him too. But there was too much. There was too much now between them and around them and behind them for her to think that anything good could come out of this, to think that what she wanted was worth discovering. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and moved to speak again when Logan had silenced her once more with his own mouth. She had a moment to close her eyes to the warm feel of his lips on hers, a moment to seal this feeling away into her memory, a moment to enjoy his taste one last time before she denied herself. She would have to be the one to say it.

"Stop," she urged, as she pulled her mouth from his, turning her head to the side so she couldn't see his eyes as she spoke. "I cannot. Not now. There are too many people I need to think about right now and more important things – "

"There is nothing more important," his voice was a low growl, but his hold on her waist and neck were still loose, mindful of her hesitance. It was killing him, but he wouldn't push her further.

Ororo stopped at his remark, blinking. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to his, her eyes narrowed slightly. "'There is nothing more important'?" she repeated.

Logan's eyes were heavy on hers. "Nothing."

At that, Ororo found the strength to push his chest off hers to stand out of his grasp. "How can you say that?" she asked, the moistness returning to her eyes. She grasped her own arms. "How can you say that when you are an X-Man? When the lives of these children and the conviction of our cause should be the only important things?"

Logan didn't even blink. He held his arms steady at his sides. "I don't care. I don't care about any of that shit. I've lived and lost too much not to act on this."

Ororo shook her head. "But I _do_ care. And I must put others first right now, now when I am needed most."

Logan grit his teeth. "Fuck that. You always do that. Hell, _I've_ been doing that too much lately, thanks to you. At least I fuckin' know when to go for what I want."

Ororo's expression turned pained, her voice lowering. "Sometimes you cannot get what you want."

"And sometimes you can," he urged, stepping toward her, his hands moving to her waist once more.

But she flinched at his touch, and he didn't think anything could hurt quite so much anymore. He pulled his arms back.

Her eyes searched his, and she licked her lips, reaching for an answer to her reaction. "I just…Logan, understand that I cannot do this right now. I cannot give in to personal desires. I cannot give myself in to figuring this out in a time when any distraction could cost me the team and our way of life. There _are_ more important things now, Logan. And if you cannot understand that then maybe…maybe…"

Logan's jaw clenched tightly, his chest heavy with the weight of holding in words. Words he just wanted to scream at her, shake her with. "Then maybe I shouldn't have spilled my guts all over your floor, huh? That it, Storm? Well, sorry for dropping this shit on you in an _obviously_ inopportune time. I see now we feel differently about the subject." He turned sharply.

"Logan, please, I _do_ feel – "

Logan whirled back. "No, you don't. You're a fuckin' coward, Storm."

Her nostrils flared and she gripped her arms tighter. "I simply have my priorities straight," she replied, deadly calm.

"Oh, and I don't? Well, apologies if it came off as though _you_ were one of my priorities. Obviously, you can't be worth that much effort, huh?" he cut back.

Ororo felt the acid slung in that one, and for a moment she thought she might not be able to answer, afraid the break in her voice would give her away. But then her voice came of its own accord and she was surprised the words could come so easily. "About as much as can be said for you, right Logan?" She regretted it the moment it left her mouth.

Logan pulled in a deep breath, his fists balled at his sides. "Guess so. Though I wish you could have told me so months ago, so I could have been done with this fuckin' place. Nice to know you thought I was a waste of time." With that he turned and made for the path out of the greenhouse.

"Logan!" she called, reaching a hand to his back.

"Don't fuckin' bother! You never did before." he yelled, his form retreating through the foliage.

Something flamed inside her. "Good then. Leave! I was starting to miss the image of your back!" she screamed as he slammed the glass door to the greenhouse, her voice hitching with tears on the last words. She gripped herself as the silence of the room filled her ears. This time, she knew the ache in her chest. Inside her, somewhere, something was dying. Something she didn't know could live again.

* * *

Kitty was walking the halls of the mansion in search of Ororo, her friends long since gone to bed, but she had been up in the lab working on the encryption of the committee files her X-Leader had wanted her to decipher. She held the papers in her hands now, neatly organized in a manila folder. As she passed one of the windows past the rec room she caught the glimpse of a figure with white hair leaving the greenhouse. She smiled to herself, bouncing along the hallway to meet Ororo at the door to the rec room.

"Captain," she hailed, mock saluting as she stood at attention in the doorway, just as Ororo made her way up the steps.

Ororo snapped her head up at the voice, blinking, and pulling in her breath suddenly. She brought a hand to her chest. "Kitty, you frightened me."

The girl smirked. "'Bout the only one who can claim that, huh?" she asked cheekily, but her smile faded as she viewed the tight expression on Ororo's face. "Storm," she said softly, her hand falling from its salute. "What's wrong?"

Ororo raised her head, wiping one had across her cheek. "I am fine, Kitty. It is of no matter."

Kitty eyed her suspiciously for a moment but knew there was nothing she could pull from the woman. "Well, okay, then." She still glanced at her worriedly as she brought the manila folder into view, holding it out to Ororo. "I've got all the information you requested on General Shrap."

Ororo reached for it. "Thank you, Kitty. I appreciate your work on this and your," she paused narrowing her eyes playfully at the younger girl, "_discretion_."

Kitty had the grace to look sheepish and shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, Wolvie has a way of getting what he wants. One way or the other."

Ororo's voice lowered, her shoulder slumping slightly. "Hmm, one way or the other," she mused. Smiling at Kitty once more, she shook the thoughts from her head. "Thanks again. I will see you at the meeting tomorrow to inform you of our next plan of action."

"Right-o." Kitty spun on her heel and waved goodnight as she made her way down the hallway and up into her dorm. Ororo took the stairs to her office and closed the door behind her. She made her way to her desk and turned the tableside lamp on as she settled into her chair. Opening the folder, she flipped to the first page.

The night seemed to get colder.


	15. Personal, Part One

Author's Note: I"M ALIVEEEEEEE! And with good news too for all of you who dutifully stayed by my side with my baby here. I truly appreciate all the encouraging and patient readers and reviewers who still actually want to read my story. Believe me, you are now the only reason I'm still with this. The bad news is that you had to wait so long after their kiss for the next chapter. The good news? I have the next one actually finished and ready to post. Happened quite by accident actually. I wrote these two chapters together in one shot to make a _single_ friggin' scene. And it ended up being close to 7500 words so I broke it up into Part One and Part Two, because there is so much information to explain about X-business. Also good news: I'm changing the rating higher because Storm and Wolverine just couldn't stop themselves in the next chapter. As a side note, all the references to military bases and projects are fact and reality supported to give a sense of realism to the story (yes I did research, that's how much I care) but obviously, any mention of how these researched things pertain to my story are fictional. Please enjoy and there is more to come in maybe a week. Unless I get weak and pathetic and post tomorrow becuse I want reviews, which is likely to happen. Thanks again for all of you sticking with me. Lycheeloving this is for youuuuuuuuu!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Fifteen: Personal, Part One

"_Somehow, without their knowing it, it all came back to Alcatraz. Every secret burden was rooted in that day of regret and pain."_

Hank sighed as he dropped his briefcase on the wood floor at his feet, shutting the mansion door behind him. He could hear the sound of the cab pulling away from the driveway out front of the Xavier Institute.

"Hank!"

He turned at the sound of his name and saw Ororo striding toward him, arms open and a blinding smile across her face. He embraced her warmly, greeting her as well and then holding her at arms length to level a heavy gaze on her. He noticed the X-men suit she had already adorned, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Her smile was gone, a determined look to her eyes. "Your room is ready for you, friend. Just bring up your belongings and meet us in the conference room. The others are already suited up and waiting."

Nodding, Hank picked his briefcase back up and headed toward the stairs. "Let's hope we are not all needed."

Ororo watched him head up the staircase and then headed to the underground base herself. She had changed into her X-men garment as soon as her history class had ended and pulled Kitty, Peter and Bobby out of their classes then, ending third period for all the students and sending them to lunch. As soon as the children let out, Ororo briefed the other teachers to continue classes in her absence. She would return to schedule as soon as the mission was resolved. How soon that meant she truly had no idea.

Ororo set her jaw in frustration as she walked the halls heading toward the conference room. Hank hadn't given her any good news about this General Shrap and his plans for a militarized mutant unit. And there was little else to go on from Kitty's hacking. She hated going in uninformed. There were lives under her care now and she'd be damned if she threw them into a blind fight. She had no doubt about their abilities. They had proven themselves to her long ago on Alcatraz. But that was different. Here, they were unaware of the extent of their opponent's abilities. Back at Alcatraz, they were fighting enemies they knew. People they knew. Magneto and Jean.

Jean.

Yes, she knew Jean. She knew her weaknesses, her past, knew how to fight Jean. And if she had to, she knew how to kill Jean.

She shook the thought from her head. No point in wondering about it now. No point in wondering if she could have done it if Logan had failed.

Ororo stopped. She blinked at her sudden realization, licked her lips. If not for Logan, what would she have become?

There was a sudden and unwelcome knot in her throat as she tried to swallow down the 'what if's. The unspokens. The almosts. The barely there shadow of the person she could have been. The flipside of the coin that Logan himself had been living on this entire time.

She was the almost guilty. She was the almost killer. She was the almost hated. Not quite. But almost. And it made her wonder if all this time that they had been secretly and silently blaming Logan, laying the hate and accusations on him because it was easier to blame someone who wasn't dead, if all this time, really she was happy it wasn't her. All this time, was she grateful to use Logan as the excuse?

He hadn't been the almost guilty, the almost killer, the almost hated. He _was._ He _is_. He has always been the outsider, the alienated. Kept at arms length. Never invite him in, never let him wipe his feet on your doorstep. Always at a distance. Never invite him.

Her heart ached at the thought. And not because she had wanted to let him in. But because he let himself into her life without her watching, without her even opening the door. It was as though she woke up one day and found him sitting in her living room. And he still hasn't let himself out.

This whole mess. This whole stupid mess of pride and duty and longing and wanting. And all because he heard a break in her voice. All because he heard that silent note of yearning in her unknowing confession that day he touched her in anger. All because of this stupid damn mess of grief and unrequited love. All because she couldn't help but want to share the pain.

_Well_, she thought, _I guess I really did open the door to that one_.

Ororo put a hand to her chest, felt the rapid beating beneath her palm and wondered, if Logan were with her there, would he hear it too? Would he hear, just like that break in her voice that first day of unleashing, all the little things she wished him never to hear? All the little secrets that scared her to realize she couldn't stop thinking of him. Couldn't stop seeing him. Couldn't stop wanting him.

Would he know? _Did_ he know? Just how much she laid awake at night wondering if he could hear her thundering heartbeat through the walls?

"Ororo?"

Ororo whipped around to find Hank heading toward her from the elevator. How long had she been standing there, she wondered.

Swallowing thickly, Ororo drew a slight breath and shifted her shoulders around. "Hank," she greeted. "I did not believe it would be so difficult to enter that conference room once more." She lowered her gaze to the floor, hoping he didn't catch the lie in her features.

Sighing, he came up behind her and rested a large blue paw on her shoulder. "Everything is different now. Without Charles things seem…somehow…"

"Incomplete?" she answered hesitantly, looking up at him now that she had a second to school her face back to impassiveness.

There was a reluctant smile to his lips as he continued, "In a way, yes. As though I half expect his voice to burst into my head, asking me why I haven't made it to the conference room yet. And yet, this is a mission in which we do not have his voice to guide us."

Ororo put a hand to his touch on her shoulder. "I have lead before. The team listens to me. They depend on me. I know I have their trust. However…," she looked back to the doors before her, where behind them sat all her teammates and colleagues, waiting on a single word from her to throw their lives to the slaughter.

She closed her eyes and Logan's face passed before her lids. There was a tightness to her chest she didn't expect. She flashed her eyes open, setting a regretful smile to her features and reaching a hand back to her chest to brace against her heart. "I had Charles's voice with me at Alcatraz. Did you know?"

As she glanced at Hank she saw him shake his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She looked back to the doors before them. "It was still…so fresh after his death. It was as though his conscience lingered with me, helped to steer me in that final fight. I was not alone. Not even when I had thought I lost for a moment there. Now though…now I am alone in leading these men and women. My decisions may cost them their lives. My judgment may be the death or life of them. And there are some things in this fight I am not willing to give up. Some things are more precious than before. Some people are more important now than I had once thought."

Hank cocked his head at that last part, blinking at her. Slowly he turned her shoulder so that she had to look at him once more and he was caught by a guarded expression she had never shown in his presence before. "Ororo, what are you…?" He stopped, furrowing his brows at her averted gaze. "Are you saying-"

"Ask me again some day," she interrupted, dropping her hand from his at her shoulder and heading toward the conference room doors already sliding open before her. "Maybe I will tell you."

Watching her stride into the room, Hank sighed and pulled his shoulders back. That woman was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. But now, she needed his support, needed his unwavering presence at her side. Right now she needed Beast. And once he entered that room, with all his comrades lining the chairs before him, all their faces set grim for the fight ahead, that's all he was.

Enter the Beast.

Logan was leaning with his back against the far wall when he first saw Ororo walk in through the sliding doors of the wide grey room. All the conversations around the large round table ceased as she made her way around the chairs toward the front of the room. But as soon as Beast walked in after her, the X-men, all in their leathered suits, were out of their seats to greet the blue furball. Bobby, whose seat was closest to the doors, stood to shake hands with him.

"Beast," he greeted, his somber expression from before only slightly improved by his slowly widening smile. "It's good to have you back with us…though," he stopped, gesturing to the room behind him, "I wish it were under different circumstances."

Beast put a hand to the young man's shoulder. "It is always good to be back among friends, no matter the circumstances."

Kitty jumped between the two suddenly, wrapping as much of her arms as she could around the wide-set man and smiling into his fur. "Beastie! You were missed!"

And so the rest of the team greeted Beast as Ororo came around the table, setting her eyes on Kurt as he rose from his seat.

"Nightcrawler," she said, genuinely smiling at his presence. They exchanged hugs briefly. "I appreciate you coming on such short notice."

He held her arms as he smiled back at her. "Well, one of the benefits of my mutation," he chuckled softly.

"You know you are always an X-man, and thus always welcome here. I do wish you would stay on permanently with us," she impeached him sincerely.

Kurt shrugged nervously. "I do not think the children like me very much. But I am doing well for myself, Windrider." He brushed a hair behind her ear with a tender hand as he used his nickname for her, and his eyes softened on her warm face.

A few feet away, Logan's arms uncrossed swiftly as he eyed the exchange.

Ororo didn't notice Logan's movement, instead lifting her own hand to grip Kurt's that had brushed her cheek. "I am truly glad, Kurt. You have always been good to me."

Kurt's eyes darted to the floor momentarily with that schoolboy nervousness he always possessed around her and he released her hands as soon as he caught sight of Logan walking toward them. There was something dangerous in the other man's eyes that Kurt wasn't willing to wait around and discover. Instead, he nodded to Logan just as the man stepped up to them, muttering a low "Logan" as a hello, and moving off toward the small crowd around Hank to give the beast another welcome.

Ororo waved slightly after Kurt and then leaned on one hip to cross her arms and eye Logan beside her. She hadn't even the energy to say hello just now. She tapped her foot at him expectantly, watching him silently stare her down. "What?" she bit out. Because she was the last one to openly admit he made her insides squirm unexpectedly at the sight of his dark stare. The last one to let on that a rush of memories suddenly assaulted her, all involving his hands and his lips and his tongue.

Oh god, his tongue.

Yeah. She'd rather bite his head of than admit to _that_

She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes at him, unconsciously rolling her thighs together as she switched legs to lean on. "You are such a baby," she finally snapped, uncrossing her arms a little too harshly and turning from him.

"What is it about you that's got the blue boys so fixed?" His tone was joking, but there was a slight challenge to it that had Ororo stopping and slowly swirling to face him. His arms were crossed again, and that arrogant smirk was lining his lips in a way that made Ororo genuinely angry this time.

"Are you-" but then she stopped, wiping a hand down her face. "I do not even know how to begin feeling about this." She dropped her hand and eyed him suspiciously. "Are you kidding me? Is this some testosterone-fest manly mark-your-territory kind of thing? Because if it is, I am walking out that door right now before either one of us has to say that childish word 'jealous'."

Logan cocked his head at her, his smirk widening. "Well," he started lowly, his canines flashing, "I ain't marked anything. Yet." His eyes intentionally roved her body slowly, landing on her neck and wondering if under that leather collar he really might have left something.

Ororo's eyes narrowed at him. "And you are not going to. Are you intentionally trying to piss me off?" She glanced at the others at the end of the room and noticed they were finishing their greetings and some were beginning to find their seats. She looked back to Logan and saw that he had glanced at their team as well, his face sobering somewhat.

"Not now, Logan," she said lowly. "I have already told you. There are more important things right now. I am too weary to fight with you." She leaned back slightly, her shoulders losing some of their tension. "I had thought more of you. I had thought you would be in this fight with me, and not rattling the ranks from under me."

Logan's eyes flashed angrily for a second. But it was only a second, only when the words 'more important' left her mouth. And then he was grabbing her wrist as she tried to leave him, pulling her back to face him, and this time, she was close enough to feel his hot breath against her cheek.

Logan licked his lips subconsciously, his gaze dropping to her full mouth for a moment before he reined himself in, his grip on her wrist loosening into something she might have called tender at another time.

"I am," he responded firmly, boring into her eyes. "I _am_ with you. I'm…Dammit, Storm, I'm sorry. I'm with you okay, in this fight. I've got your back. I have always had your back. That doesn't change."

She swallowed her breath, her eyes softening as she gazed into his, suddenly realizing how hard it was not to take his face into her hands and whisper across his skin how much that meant to her. How much she knew that somehow, she had always known, always known he was there. But she didn't. She nodded, answering softly, "Thank you. I needed to hear that. I need you on my team with this one."

She went to pull away and saw his eyes dart quickly to the X-men filing around the room to reclaim their seats. He released her wrist, but as he made his way past her he whispered over her shoulder, "But after, we have something to finish."

She could have sworn she felt his breath ghosting down her spine.

Ororo leaned her hands against the conference room table, looking up at all the faces now turning to her. Her eyes followed Logan as he took his seat next to Warren and then she flicked her gaze to Hank, looking for his nod to begin. When he gave her it, she straightened, her chin lifting and she looked around to the faces peering at her expectantly.

"We have a little recon to do team," she began, finding the words came easily to her, her settling emotions after Logan released their touch already fleeing to the back of her mind.

"Beast has informed me that a General Shrap, head of the Armed Forces Committee, proposed to the president and subsequent defensive and military officials about three weeks ago, a plan to organize a mutant only special-operations assault task force."

There was a community of groans and disbelieving faces around the table, and Logan's distinct "Well, fuck me" as they all looked at each other. Ororo bit her tongue and swallowed back the instinct to scold Logan for his language, instead moving on with the briefing.

"Apparently, he stumbled upon some of Striker's old research and discovered the substance he had been injecting into mutants to control them."

At that, Logan's head snapped to attention, the hairs rising along his neck and arms at the mere mention of Striker. Ororo's soothing gaze fell on him, but for only a moment, as she finished addressing the X-men. "Combined with a portion of the cure "vaccine", Shrap claims to have developed a strand for neurological control, that can strip the host mutant of its powers at the discretion of the team leader, who is a trained non-mutant special-operations officer."

"So basically, they're creating a brainwashed weapon that they can flip the off switch to any time things get a bit dicey, huh?" Warren scoffed as he leaned back in his rolling chair.

"In effect, yes," Ororo answered. She could hear Hank's soft muttering and the word "inhumane" pass his lips before Kurt drew her attention.

"Storm?" The teleporter ventured, his hand coming to rise slowly.

Ororo gestured for him to go on. He lowered his arm to grip his hands atop the desk. "Are these willing participants? The mutants, I mean."

Ororo's heart wrenched at the painful look in Kurt's eyes. But Hank answered before she could open her mouth.

"No. Most are recruits from the different branches of military that have no idea what task force they're getting selected for. Shrap even went so far as to suggest mutant criminals housed in federal prisons. Use them as tools instead of 'feeding the monsters on our tax dollars', I believe his exact words were." Hank bristled at the memory of sitting in that room and listening to this loathsome man talk about him and other mutants in words he wasn't prepared to repeat in this room.

"And?" Peter began. "Do we know if the Secretary of Defense or President approved his plan? Has he had any more financing other than for the research he's done so far?"

Hank shook his head. "It was still up for debate but most of us shot him down immediately in that first meeting. But he has supporters, especially those who were in military units during Alcatraz. At even the mention of Alcatraz, Shrap became even more adamant about his proposal and was emphatic in trying to procure more financing for the tests. And then suddenly, three days ago, he went dark."

Logan growled. "'Went dark'? You mean he's off the grid?"

Hank nodded. "We know he was conducting research at the USAMRIID. And when we contacted researchers there they said they were under orders to continue their developments but they hadn't heard from Shrap in four days and he's had an experimental strand in his possession since the – "  
"Okay, wait," Kitty broke in, her hands in the air as a time-out sign. "Help me out here guys. "USAMRIID'?

"U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases."

At Hanks' mention of the word "infectious" Kitty's eyes widened nervously.

Hank caught the meaning and held his hand up to stop her next question. "And the researchers there have confirmed that no air-born, water-contagion or contact strand has been developed. Shrap's controlling substance still only works as an injection."

"That's more than enough to do some serious damage," Logan growled from his position.

"What disturbs me however," Storm interrupted as she regained the floor, "is the information Kitty has uncovered for us. It seems the Secretary of Defense was receiving information from Shrap through mutual emails confirming that the general has already obtained five mutant subjects for the project and that tests were going – how did he say it?" she paused, as she looked to Kitty, her head cocked.

"'Swimmingly'," Kitty mocked humorlessly.

"Yes, that was it." Ororo breathed in once more, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "He mentioned a facility around New York where he carried out the testing on the mutant subjects but did not identify a particular area."

"We believe he may be on Montauk Air Force Base." Hank unlinked his fingers where they had been resting on the tabletop before him to start typing on the laptop he had set up at the beginning of the meeting. A light flickered on the wall behind Ororo and then the image of Montauk Air Force Base emerged across the stretch of wall.

"How?" Bobby asked. "That place was turned tourist attraction years ago."

"There are still operational parts out of the public's eye."

"And when you say 'we' you mean…?" Kitty urged Hank on, rolling her hand through the air to urge him forward.

"The military is still looking for Shrap. Montauk was Storm and I's conclusion." Hank looked to Ororo and saw her nod in agreement.

"But there are dozens of military bases Shrap could have picked with more advanced technology," Peter interjected. "Why Montauk? What's special there?"

Ororo took the reins on this one. "There are a couple reasons actually. Some of which are not apparent to the American government. They know, just as we do, that experiments in psychological warfare were once conducted at Montauk, and research on magnetic field manipulations. The initial researchers were turned down by Congress at first but then bypassed Congress by getting approval from the Department of Defense. They promised the department a weapon to produce psychotic symptoms in victims. So we know they have the technology specific to Shrap's needs."

"Nowadays," Warren broached hesitantly, "that's about every military base, wouldn't you say?" He tried not to sound skeptical of his leader but they were grasping at straws here.

Ororo nodded in Warren's direction. "I will give you that, Angel. However, at one point a certain research project was moved from the Brookhaven National Laboratory to Montauk to continue research." Here she stopped momentarily, and unbidden, her eyes found Logan's. "It was called the 'Phoenix Project'."

Logan ground his teeth together, his eyes straying from Ororo's to stare at his tightly clasped hands atop the table. She blinked back the concern and looked to the other members. "And Montauk is only a couple hours away from us. He has placed his test subjects within striking distance of us, and at a place with some kind of connection to us. We must address the danger this project proposes."

"And the Secretary of Defense, this guy Shrap was speaking to about his proceedings, let him continue?" Peter asked, incredulous. He almost scoffed at the idea.

"Well, apparently, the Secretary of Defense did not take too kindly to Shrap's siphoning of Armed Forces committee funds to finance his endeavor without the approval of the SecNav, President or himself. He never even drafted a bill so the issue never left committee to go to the House or Congress. The Secretary of Defense was furious with Shrap's actions and ordered him to report to a briefing with the defense officials the morning Shrap seemingly disappeared."

"So," Warren began, as he started knocking numbers off his fingers, "we know he has an experimental strand in his possession. Two: we know he has five mutant subjects in his hand. Three: we know he has a facility to train and experiment on these mutants. What else do we know?"

"That he has a target. Us"

Peter, Bobby and Warren all looked to Ororo at her answer. "Us?" Bobby motioned to himself.

"He is symbolizing a goal with this experiment. He is targeting us, here at the Institute, where there are children." Ororo's fists were slowly tightening, her anger seething from her nostrils. "I cannot abide that kind of reckless malice."

"What goal is he symbolizing by experimenting in a place with a 'Phoenix' reputation?" Bobby continued, his brows furrowing in thought. "I mean, why would you think he's about to attack us?"

"It's personal."


	16. Personal, Part Two

Author's Note: I somehow knew I wasn't going to wait more than a day or two to get this next one out, mostly because I wrote Personal as a whole scene and meant the two chapters to be read fluidly together. So here we have the conclusion of the meeting concerning Shrap and the X-Men's plan of action. One thing I'm really nervous about is if this meeting came off realistic both to the characters and the issue of such a military threat that Shrap poses. I don't want it to be so fantastical that it is hard to believe or follow and yet I don't want it to be simply "Shrap hate mutants, Shrap kill mutants", so I was hoping bringing in a bit of the past movies would ground this mission into reality. Please give me feedback on how well (or poorly) I wrote what I tried to make a classic X-Men action plot. Also, I don't know if the _other_ kind of action in this scene warrants a T or M rating but I figured I'd be safe, especially if we're going to have some good ol' fashion X-Men ass-kicking in following chapters. Hope this one delivers, though I'll warn you now, Storm and Wolverine interaction doesn't go much farther than this kind of stuff, physically I mean. I'm trying to work more of an emotional shindig with this one, you know?

And also, on an even more important note, thank you to Lonely Bleeding Liar, nakala, QTFics, Koko, thepretender1031, Voli, henrylover94, Electra de Lioncourt, ToughSpirit, oksofia, LadyVibeke87, glocap, shejams, Vampirechica12345, Lamia of the Dark, Mystique84, thebloomcrewof1, Aria Mirage, xmen4life, jazphace, segrccgg, Sweet Oz, Saturnian Solitude, Scarlett Burns, blackrose5242, kittt and all the other reviewers that though I may not have mentioned by name are all equally appreciated and encouraging. Believe me. You guys are usually the ones to make my day. Lycheeloving, you know who you are. Thank you all for helping me reach 100 reviews!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Secret Burdens

Chapter Sixteen: Personal Part Two

"_It was about being together. Sometimes in the most desperate and painful of ways. But it was _together_."_

Previously:

"_He is symbolizing a goal with this experiment. He is targeting us, here at the Institute, where there are children." Ororo's fists were slowly tightening, her anger seething from her nostrils. "I cannot abide that kind of reckless malice."_

"_What goal is he symbolizing by experimenting in a place with a 'Phoenix' reputation?" Bobby continued, his brows furrowing in thought. "I mean, why would you think he's about to attack us?"_

* * *

"It's personal."

Everyone looked to Logan as he emitted his low, terse comment, almost a rumble up from his chest. He was still looking at his hands. His knuckles were white from his own grip.

"It was personal for Striker, too" Kurt added softly, nodding more to himself then to second Logan's idea. "Anyone who goes through that much effort to create subtle connections to his enemies is running a personal vendetta. A vengeful one."

"Yup," Kitty piped in, slouching back in her chair resignedly. "We killed his brother."

Ororo snapped her head to the young girl suddenly. "Kitty…" she started.

Kitty waved her hands through the air as though to clear it of the confused faces looking at her. "I mean, not really, just…you know he got kind of caught, like – at Alcatraz – in the crossfire. Magneto's men got him or something."

"You might be making sense in Kitty world, Katya, but out here in the real world you're blabbering." Peter shook his head at her.

Ororo grabbed the room's attention once more as she steered the conversation back to sense. "His younger brother was Corporal Andrew C. Shrap. He was one of the military casualties from the battle at Alcatraz. I suppose Magneto is not the only mutant Shrap blames for the death of his brother."

"And we didn't have casualties either, huh? That's what he thinks?" Logan's sudden outburst startled the room into alertness, everyone's eyes resting on his hunched and tense form over the table. He was staring at Ororo, breathing hard with barely held in anger.

She took a moment to simply stare back, let her unwavering gaze wash over him. And without even knowing what she was doing, the beast in him was calming. He gulped down the frustration, settled back slowly in his chair, though his eyes never left her blue ones.

"He is ignorant and hateful, but he is also hurting," she offered calmly.

Logan looked away.

"And that makes him excusable?" Warren asked disbelievingly as he crossed his arms.

"No," she replied, her eyes hardening once more. "That makes him dangerous."

Every body there seemed to release some of the pent up frustration with that last statement, instead readying to focus themselves on the task at hand.

Sighing, Ororo motioned Hank to continue with the pictures on the screen behind her. "We know what he possesses and we know what he seeks. Our information is limited and based mostly on circumstantial support so we need to retrieve more data before we dive into this head first."

"Give me the motherfucker's location and I'll give you _his_ head first," Logan threw out calmly, deadly.

"I'm sorry, Logan" Hank started off. "As much as I'd like to see that, believe me, there is more to it than that. These five mutants he has are victims, not opponents."

"Not yet, anyway," Kitty interjected from her position beside him.

Kurt leaned forward at Kitty's remark. "And we must be prepared for the chance that it comes to that." It was an idea he hated but one that he knew must be voiced.

"No," Ororo said firmly. "Even if they have been indoctrinated by Shrap already, we will use containment maneuvers. They are to be freed, not killed, and if we must capture them and bring them back to our medlab to do so then we do so. Those are your orders, X-men. No exceptions. They are not the enemy here. Am I clear?"

"Transparently," Bobby answered seriously. They all nodded simultaneously.

"Now," she continued, looking to the photos Hank was showing across the projector wall, "our limited information does not tell us the names of his subjects but we are aware of their powers and abilities."

Pictures of one female and four male army privates were brought up to the screen. "One possesses a chameleon type ability in which he can camouflage into his surroundings, and that includes people. One of them has control over heat, another over vibrations and one has g-force capabilities, so in essence, he can control an object's acceleration and force. The last of them carries snake-like qualities though it is unclear if that pertains to agility, venom, appearance or any other such factor. Each of them is also exceptionally trained in combat maneuvers. So exercise extreme caution if we confront them, as we do not know the extent of their capabilities."

As a picture of a different man appeared on the screen, Ororo took a moment to memorize his features. He wore his brown air shorn close to his head in a crew cut. His jaw was wide and set hard, his nose prominent above thin and down-turned lips. His eyes were disarmingly blue and light. Misleadingly light. "This is General Shrap."

There was silence in the room as everyone ingrained the image into their minds.

"Our first course of action is to send a two man reconnaissance team to investigate the compound we think is holding Shrap and ascertain the strength of the military presence there. If possible, seek out the hostage mutants and report back on their condition. I need someone with stealth for this mission, someone who is good at not being seen."

"Well, that rules me out," Hank chuckled softly, suddenly feeling his nonchalant comment was almost out of place in the somber room. But it earned him the appreciative smirks of those around the table.

"Sorry, Beast," Ororo mock comforted, "I've already chosen Shadowcat and Nightcrawler for this one."

The two mentioned sat up at their names being mentioned, ready for their orders.

"Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, take the Blackbird to one of the off-base fields around Montauk and proceed to infiltrate as deep as you can go without detection and return with whatever information you can gather on troop strength , defenses, the locations of labs and containment cells and the situation of the mutants if at all possible. You leave in six hours, at 1830, to go under cover of nightfall. Start preparation of the Blackbird immediately. Understood?"

The two nodded.

"And when you return, we will develop an immediate plan of action, hopefully to be executed tonight. Any questions?" Ororo looked about at everyone, but when all she met with were set faces and determination she nodded, satisfied. "This meeting is dismissed."

The light from the screen behind her flashed out and the room was left in dim light once more as Hank gathered up his laptop. Slowly, everyone rose from the table and began filing out of the room, Kitty talking excitedly with Kurt while he nodded and smiled at her remarks. Behind them, Warren and Hank were in a heated, deep conversation while Bobby and Peter trailed silently behind them.

Ororo had leaned back down on the table, one arm holding her weight against it as the other reached back to rub the back of her neck, eyes closed. She blew air from her lips and opened her eyes to find Logan standing behind his previous seat, simply watching her. She straightened up instantly, brushing invisible lint from her leather suit. She moved to walk past him without acknowledging his presence but he reached out a hand and caught her elbow just as she was almost past him. She sighed in exasperated defeat, no energy to start a fight with him anymore, stopping reluctantly as he came up behind her.

Even through their suits, Logan could feel the heat from her body, smell the acacias all over her. He unconsciously moved closer to her, moving his head around her shoulder so he could breathe in her scent. Without realizing it, Ororo inclined her neck for his view, rocking back slightly as she turned her head from his. There was the hot expel of his breath over her neck that made her think that if she looked at him she wouldn't look back. So she turned her gaze away, though her arm still lay in his grip, unresisting.

"Yes?" she breathed anxiously, and something in her voice gave rise to a hungry need clawing through his chest, aching to hear her say his name in that whisper, in that vulnerable ghost of a breathe across his scorching skin.

He hadn't meant to be so entranced by the sliver of toffee skin he caught sight of as her neck peeked out from beneath the confining collar of her leather suit. And suddenly, he couldn't stop looking even further, his eyes moving down her body as he realized exactly how fitted these stupid X-men uniforms were.

He figured he should probably stop complaining at this point.

But whatever words he had intended to say were suddenly caught at the sight of her, the closeness of her, the smell of her, the heat of her thrumming body just out of reach. And yet, so yielding.

He had meant to stay angry with her. His eyes glanced at her turned cheek and he found himself leaning forward against her back, reaching his other arm around to spread across her stomach, urging her back to fit against his chest. At that she pulled her unrestrained arm up to grab his hand across her stomach, try to lift it off but suddenly, she didn't want to move it from his grip.

"Logan," she warned, as she stumbled back into him, his chest hot even through the leather, his breathes heavy and urgent.

"Don't," he let out raggedly, and the sound was so needy to Ororo's ears she fairly nearly laid her head back against his shoulder and let him pull her to anywhere he wanted to go.

"Please," he went on, his breath fanning her neck and cheek. Her skin was moist beneath his lips. "Stop pretendin'," he repeated from last night, that first night he tasted her while he held her up against the glass of the greenhouse wall.

"I never pretended," she answered softly, her voice shaking even as she cursed her weakness in her head. She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt his teeth graze her neck, the hint of his tongue darting out to taste her skin.

She moved forward to escape his hold but it wasn't heartfelt and she felt him pull her back, hold her firmly but not painfully and not, she realized, against her will. She arched back into him as she fell back against his chest. Her skin peppered with goosebumps at the groan that escaped him and feathered across her neck. She could hear him lick his lips, the heat of his mouth so close to her ear. The hand he had around her elbow moved reverently up her arm to link fingers with her, and suddenly, at the intimate gesture, Ororo's head turned to the sight and fixed her gaze upon their joined hands.

"Then I ain't wrong," he breathed against her skin. "I ain't the only one feelin' this." At his last word, the hand across her stomach smoothed down to her hip and pulled her further into him, the air between them non-existent. She wet her lips at the motion, glancing back across her shoulder to catch his eyes as he planted his lips at the back of her ear, taking it slightly between his teeth.

But he wasn't looking at her eyes, or her neck, or her body. He was looking at their hands.

He was looking at their _hands_. Together. Tangled and somewhat innocently awkward, even in the midst of their close bodies and shared breath. But together.

And in that instant, in the barest of moments, in the second of conscious thought with his body pressed so tightly against hers, she knew, she _knew_, that when he said "this" he meant "together".

Not the heat. Not the lust. Not the need. Not anything but the sense that when he felt _right_ it was because he felt _her_.

Her eyes had suddenly felt warm and moist and before she could lift a hand to wipe at them, she felt his warm lips against the wetness of her cheek, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin as he met her tear with his kiss. She choked on a sudden unexpected sob and Logan pulled back slightly to watch her, his arm still holding her to him, his hand still linked with hers.

There was everything right and natural in his touch.

"You are not the only one." Her smile was shaky at best, but grew wider as she felt him drop his head against her shoulder, heard him expel a relieved breath.

"I meant it." His voice was deep and husky against her shoulder, the rumbling of his tone felt along the length of her spine and her eyes were suddenly dry, her breath caught by the hunger in his voice.

He lifted his head, his mouth returning to her neck as he brought his moist lips to her copper slick skin. "I meant what I said. You're all I think about." The words were hot on her neck, followed by his teeth as he sucked at the tender flesh, his hand on her hip suddenly tight and needy.

She just about died.

He moved against her, pulling his hand that wound with hers to come across her stomach and hold her to him. Her released hand moved of its own accord, finding purchase on the back of his head, her fingers tight and tangled in his hair as she held his mouth to her neck.

She pulled in a ragged breath, a slight keening sound escaping her throat and Logan bit down reflexively, a growl bruising her skin beneath his teeth. She arched unconsciously, moaning softly with the unexpected assault on her skin.

"Say it," he said darkly, eyes closed, his mouth suddenly unmoving above her.

"What?" she asked vaguely, no where near the vicinity of coherent speech.

His chest heaved behind her, his grip digging into her hip, as he laved the spot where he bit languidly with his tongue. She shut her eyes and pulled his head harder to her.

"Say it's the same for you," he could barely breathe, barely find the mind to ask her for it. "That I'm…" he stopped, pulled hot breathes through his nose into his aching lungs, because if he said it wrong he'd lose her, he knows. "I want to be all you think about. Ororo."

Her name on his tongue and against her skin sent ripples of unexplained fire through her body.

"Ororo, I want to be it. I want to be-"

But he didn't get to finish. Suddenly, she yanked herself from his grasp with a force he hadn't expected from her previously pliant body and whipped around to face him. Before he could even notice the change her hand was pulled back and then coming across his cheek in a sharp and full-forced slap. His head whipped with the strength of it, his eyes flashing back to stare at her disbelievingly, his cheek already reddening, his heaving breathes doubling in effort from lust to sudden unchecked anger. Her eyes were hard and sharp as they glared into his, her nostrils flaring, her hands clenched tightly to her sides. He could have sworn he saw her hair crackling with electricity.

"What _the FUCK _was – "

She grabbed his face in both hands and yanked him to her, crushing her mouth to his, moving her lips over his urgently, wrapping her arms around his neck and clashing her body flush against his. She pulled her head back to stare into his wide, dark eyes, her own eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. "You are all I think about."

Her mouth found his again, desperate and searching, her tongue slipping through easily. His surprise was momentary, his arms reaching around her back and pressing her into him as close as she could come, and it wasn't close enough. They moved their mouths angrily over each other, his tongue instantly finding access to her mouth and his resounding groan filled the heat of her, made her moan herself into the kiss, the crashing of bodies and breath.

Her hands raked harshly over his chest as his reached behind her and grabbed her, pulling her up, hoisting her roughly around to land on the table behind them, the forceful crash of their bodies against the ledge nearly toppling them both. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively to steady them and pulled him into her, holding him tight between her legs. Their mouths broke apart on the violent movement, his finding hers again swiftly and hungrily as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and raked his tongue across it before delving in once more. Her hands moved rapidly from his shoulders to his hair, to his chest and back again, one grasping the collar of his leather uniform and yanking him further to her, deeper into her mouth, feeling his slick tongue slide across hers recklessly.

It wasn't until he moved his hands to her waist, pushed his pelvis closer to her center and his thumb grazed absently against her breast that she broke the kiss, gasping for air, her forehead pressed tightly against his as she held his collar, kept their breath shared between them. "Wait, wait…" she murmured frantically. She sucked air deeply through her nostrils, her eyes shut closed.

Logan groaned at the sudden loss but pulled his hooded gaze up, focused his eyes on her closed ones, memorized her face like this, her mouth parted and swollen and pulling heavy needy breathes into her throbbing lungs. She felt Logan bring his hands up to hold her face to his. She blinked her eyes open.

She didn't know how she had never seen this man before now. How she had never seen those eyes and that face, that yearning expression that made her feel whole and hungry and guilty all at the same time. And she didn't know which to pick just yet, so she concentrated on breathing, swallowing down anxious gulps of need as he simply held her face and looked at her.

Slowly, eventually, he nodded. "Okay…okay." He licked his lips, seemed to be trying to control his breathing as well. He pulled her mouth to his and grabbed one more kiss, just his lips against hers for the briefest of moments. Just the touching of skin and sharing of warmth that had her instinctively opening her mouth to the pressure and then lost when his lips were gone.

She blinked at him. "I…I want to but…"

Logan nodded again, his thumb grazing her cheek. "I know. It's okay, because I know now, I know we're both feeling this. And I know that this is the shittiest timing."

She laughed, her cheeks flushed, her smile spreading to his hands, and he never thought she had ever looked so beautiful.

"But I need to be there for my team." Ororo pleaded with him, her hands coming up to hold his. "I need you to be there too."

"Always," he said impulsively, the answer coming from somewhere inside he figured may have always belonged to her. He pulled back just enough to see her fully. "But," he started, a devilish grin breaking across his face, "I do need to work this tension off somehow."

Ororo raised a brow at him and began to open her mouth in the most degrading and scolding schoolteacher tone she could muster when he stopped her.

"Care for a Danger Room session?" His smile was brilliant.


End file.
